Homeward
by Wolveria
Summary: You are an abusive relationship with a member of the Hand and seek out your childhood friend, Danny Rand, for help.
1. Chapter 1

You promised yourself you could handle it. You swore things would get better. That you could _make_ them better.

The universe had decided to take your determination and throw it back in your face, spiteful and cruel in its mockery. Maybe you truly had done something to deserve it.

No… that felt like bullshit. Which is why when your boyfriend, after too much beer and too much pent-up aggression, had shoved you against the wall and growled what a nagging, stuck-up bitch you were, you had turned and left the apartment without a word. Insensate to his alcohol-fueled screaming.

He didn't bother chasing after you. He knew you'd be back. You always came back. Where else would you go?

You rubbed your arms as you walked down the sidewalk, surrounded by crowds of strangers even this late at night. You hadn't had the wherewithal to grab your jacket, your phone, or even your wallet. There had been no time; the surge of anger and sharp hatred had threatened to erupt from within your chest, and you'd rushed out the door before the situation escalated.

Not because you still cared about your domestic partner. That time had passed long ago. But lashing out at a member of the Hand was a surefire way to lose a few fingers, toes, or worse.

Your options were limited and decreasing as the minutes ticked by. There were a few places still open where you could take shelter from the biting wind. But that would only solve the immediate problem of being exposed, and do nothing for the long-term crisis that had become your existence.

No. This was going to end, one way or another. _Tonight._ You were sick and tired of the anger, the terror, the shouting. Something had to give, and with the ways things were going, it would be your sanity or your life.

Turning left along the next avenue, you changed course as you grit your teeth against the chill, steeling yourself for what was to come. It was going to be painful in a way that only emotional vulnerability could be. Even though objectively you understood you had nothing to be ashamed of, it didn't damper the heat in your cheeks.

There was one place you could go. One person you could turn to. It was just a matter of swallowing your pride and asking for help.

With no money for a cab or the train, you used the only transport available to you: your feet. After a half hour of walking, the tip of your nose numb from the wind, you deeply regretted not grabbing your wallet.

Hell, you regretted a lot of things at this point.

After forty-five minutes of brisk walking, you were there, thankful that you didn't have to travel to another borough. Standing outside your destination, you craned your head backwards to take in the well-lit, ornate face of the towering building, gut sinking as you immediately felt like an outsider. The doorman who opened the entryway once you approached stared at you with a dubious expression. The man at the security desk gave you an even more suspicious glance.

"Can I help you?" he slowly inquired, taking in your wind-swept appearance and lack of appropriate clothing for the autumn air. Not to mention your thin sweater, faded jeans, and careworn shoes.

"I'm here to see Danny Rand?" you responded, internally wincing from the lack of firmness in your voice, presenting the request as a question. "Is he in?"

The man stared at you. "May I have your name, please?" and you nearly sighed with relief, giving him your name as you nervously brushed your hands against your jeans. You'd been to the building only once before, soon after Danny's miraculous reappearance. It had been a much happier visit then. A blip of brightness in your world of gloom and doom.

You just hoped he was here. Sure it was getting pretty late, but if history was anything to go by, your childhood friend tended to prefer the open-air of the parks, rather than be cooped up in a skyscraper residential complex.

The security guard made the call to Danny's apartment while you looked around the lobby. All soft gold and gentle rose red, with white veined marble blanketing the floor, causing you to fear scuffing its reflective surface with your old tennis shoes. The lobby itself was more grandiose than anything you had ever lived in. Hell, the revolving door itself was probably worth more than a year of your rent.

"He will see you now. Do you know the way?"

You gave a small jump, heart beating faster in your chest as you turned your attention back to the guard.

"Ah, yes. Thank you," you responded once your voice and manners had returned to you, giving him a nervous smile before quickly walking to the bank of elevators, eager to be away from the two pairs of eyes that bored into your back. They felt like a silent accusation.

 _You don't belong here._

On the elevator ascent, you rubbed your palms together as you attempted to calm your nerves. Now that you were actually here, you were questioning your decision with growing anxiety.

It wasn't really that bad, was it? Your boyfriend had never really hurt you. Sure, he lost his temper sometimes, and he scared the hell out of you with increasing frequency, but there were moments when he was the person you remembered from the beginning of your relationship. Sometimes it wasn't so awful, and at least you never had to worry about money problems or being evicted from the cramped Manhattan apartment you shared. If it wasn't for him, you wouldn't have had snowball's chance in Hell of living close enough to see the Manhattan skyline, let alone live within it.

Something he aggressively reminded you when you dared to express any unhappiness.

Before you were ready, the elevator chimed and the doors parted smoothly. You stared at the small but still extravagant elevator bank, wondering what the hell you were _doing_ there.

"This is a mistake. A stupid, stupid mistake," you muttered to the empty space. You stared at the keypad, fingers itching to press the L button and flee from the building as fast as possible. But the elevator doors seemed determined to outwait you, remaining stubbornly open, and eventually you caved.

Danny's apartment was at the end of the hallway – a glorious corner abode you had marveled at with your mouth gaping open (to your eternal embarrassment). The Rand's had always been incredibly well-to-do, but you'd forgotten what this sort of wealth looked like over the past fifteen years. And this apartment outshone even the Rand family home on Gramercy Park where you had spent a lot of your childhood.

You had a feeling the exquisite apartment hadn't been his idea. Danny had almost seemed more embarrassed than you, and it lent credence to the crazy tale that he'd spent the last few years living in a monastery. It was a fantastical, outlandish story, but you didn't really care. He was taller, broad-shouldered with a scruffy beard, but he was the same Danny Rand you had known as a kid. The same boy who would always pick stranded slugs off the sidewalk and carry them to safety, or found birds unable to fly and kept them in a warm box until they could be given to a rehabilitator.

It was that natural instinct to take in wounded, pitiful creatures that you were counting on now. You knew he wouldn't turn you away. The problem was: did you really want to drag someone with such a sweet disposition into your personal nightmare?

Already you were losing your nerve and preparing to turn around as you approached the door. It gripped you with abject terror, the idea of rapping your knuckles against the smooth wood in order to announce your presence.

But then the door opened, and all hope of fleeing burst like a soap bubble.

An earnest face, topped with gentle, golden curls and set with sympathetic blue eyes made you freeze like a deer before an approaching car. Your muscles tensed as one, fully locking you into place, and you didn't breathe again until a bright, beaming smile broke out onto that tanned face. He called your name, and the delight in his voice made you immediately regret coming.

"Hi, Danny," you responded through the tightness of your throat, and from those two words his smile began to fade. Already, your efforts to appear normal were gloriously failing.

"Hey, haven't seen you in a while. You… Jesus, you look like you're freezing," he said with furrowed brows, moving forward to stand before you as you had yet to approach his door from the middle of the hallway.

You opened your mouth to say "I'm fine," but the words stuck somewhere along the way. Either the lie was too big, or you didn't have the strength to tell it. Instead, you stared at him mutely, pleading with your eyes; for what, precisely, you weren't sure.

He seemed to understand, or at least sensed something was amiss, as he placed a gentle hand on the back of your shoulder. "Why don't you come in? Warm up, at least. You really do look cold."

 _Cold._ Yes. That was a polite way of describing your silent helplessness.

But you let him guide you forward, muscles slowly loosening with each step, as if those few feet into Danny's apartment somehow set you at a greater distance from your problems than crossing several state lines.

Danny shut the door behind you, and you felt a sensation you hadn't experienced in what felt like a lifetime: safety.

The air rushed out of your lungs, and you began to believe that maybe you had done the right thing.

"Would you like anything to drink? Water? Coffee? Tea, maybe?" Danny asked as he walked past you in the brightly lit entryway, his eyebrows still knit in concern but his tone still warm and friendly.

"Uh. Sure. Tea sounds great." Your voice sounded almost human as you spoke, and the smile he rewarded you with did more to calm your nerves than should have been possible. Certainly more than you deserved, considering what you were about to drag him into.

"Oh, if there's one thing I have, it's tea. Go ahead and take a seat while I put on the kettle."

You thanked him, and the words felt like they were meant for much more than just the tea. He gave you one last smile before retreating in the direction of the kitchen.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, you told yourself. You didn't even have to tell him much. Or anything at all. Just being in the presence of your childhood friend was enough to make you truly believe everything would be all right.

The peaceful warmth spreading through your chest abruptly died as you entered the living room, the soothing calm replaced by the paralytic tension of muscle. A tall, dark, and very lanky figure currently occupied one of the armchairs; the last person you would have expected to be in Danny Rand's apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

Impeccably dressed as always, with a dark blue vest suit, matching pants, wine-colored tie, and shoes that shined to the point of reflecting the overhead lights, Ward Meachum looked perfectly at home in the high-rise Manhattan apartment. It made you feel that odd mental vertigo, the same sensation of being on the outside, looking in, that you had experienced looking up at Danny's building.

Ward's gaze flickered upward to meet yours as soon as you entered the space, his eyes growing darker in confusion as he stared above the rim of his glass. You opened your mouth to speak, to at least greet him like a normal human being, but that strange paralysis had overtaken you again, and you closed your mouth instead.

The silence stretched between you as he sized you up, gaze trailing over you from head to foot, one eyebrow slowly lifting as he took note of the way you rubbed your arms from a chill that wasn't there.

"(Y/N)," he finally said as way of greeting, peering at you as if your appearance was a curiosity to him. "It's been a while." His tone was languid and disinterested, but his eyes took in your disheveled appearance with far too much keenness.

"Ward," you responded in turn, wondering if it was too late to back out now. Run out the door and away from those prying eyes. You _definitely_ wouldn't have come if you'd known _he_ was here.

"I didn't realize Danny had company," you finally relayed once your brain started functioning again. Or at least, partially started functioning. Your cheeks heated with embarrassment at the implication you were hoping to be alone with Danny, in his apartment, at this very late hour.

But if Ward noticed your flub, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he continued to stare at you, calm and cool and collected. A far cry from the brash, hot-headed boy you had known as a teenager. That was your last accurate picture of him, as the few times you had been in his presence since Danny's return had been formal and distant.

A stranger in a nice suit.

"You're not the only one who decided to drop by unannounced," interjected a cheerful voice from behind, and you turned your head to see Danny rescuing you from the awkward moment, a glass of water in his hand and a grey blanket in the other. "Sorry," he added with an abashed grin. "Water's still heating up."

"Thank you," you responded, voice slightly cracking to indicate Danny had the right idea about water. "I'm fine, though. I don't need—"

But he was already settling the blanket around your shoulders, and it _did_ feel very nice, so you didn't protest too much. As you took a sip from the glass, you caught Ward rolling his eyes so quickly that you nearly missed it.

"Just pretend I'm not even here," Ward spoke with dripping sarcasm, and by his lax body language, you guessed that this wasn't his first glass of liquor. It made you second-guess your decision to opt for tea instead of something harder. Drowning your misery in alcohol didn't sound like a half-bad idea.

"As if that were possible," Danny replied just as wryly, but there was a definite smile of playfulness there, and Ward returned the look with his own half-smirk.

 _The hell? When did those two start getting along?_ Between Ward being an absolute terror to Danny as a kid (though he left you and Joy alone), and his hostility at Danny returning to New York, you had no idea when they had achieved such… friendliness. But they definitely had. You couldn't remember the last time Ward had smiled without the shark's grin he gave when he was feeling particularly vindictive.

But here he was now. Smirking at Danny as if they did this kind of thing every night. And maybe they did. You certainly wouldn't know, embroiled as you were in your own problems for the past few months.

"So, what's up?" Danny asked, folding his hands before him he sat on the couch opposite the armchair Ward occupied, leaving you to take the loveseat facing the coffee table between them.

"Not much," you responded automatically as you tried to make yourself comfortable on the piece of expensive furniture. The cold water you sipped helped quench the nervous dryness in your mouth, but you could only focus on the drink and avoid making eye contact for so long.

Finally setting the glass down on the table in front of you, you purposefully looked down at your hands as you began to feel the mental walls go up around your mind.

"Just, you know. The usual."

"Oh. I see." With confusion on his brow, Danny clearly didn't see, but he had always been the polite, well-mannered kid of your childhood group. He wouldn't push you.

Ward had no such qualms.

"So… you came over to Danny's at ten o'clock at night, without forewarning, to just… what, make small talk?" Ward's tone danced on the edge of mockery, attempting to goad you into at least looking his direction, but you kept your eyes firmly down at the water glass on the table.

What were you supposed to say? _I'm doing great, except I'm dating a member of the Hand. Yeah, you know, the Hand. A global criminal syndicate that reaches anywhere and everywhere. No, I'm not crazy. I swear it's real. But if I tell you any more than that, they'll kill you._

"I came over to see my friend. I'm allowed to do that, aren't I?" you responded dryly, your gaze tracing the straight-edged lines of the coffee table in front of you. Chances were high you would memorize every surface of Danny's living room before you left simply by virtue of refusing to look at the other occupants of the room.

You glanced up when your question was met with silence, finding the two men sharing a glance, Danny's expression concerned while Ward's dubious look indicated he wasn't going to buy whatever you were about to sell.

"Are you sure there's nothing new going on in your life, (Y/N)?" Danny asked, returning his gaze back to you. His blue eyes were soft with something that was still concern, but also too close to pity. "We haven't seen you in a while."

That made you glance between them with growing confusion. _We?_ Danny was the only one who had attempted to reach out and get back in touch after discovering you still lived in New York. Ward had seemed to forget you even existed.

And way Danny asked if there was nothing _new_ going on made it feel as if he somehow knew. Which was _crazy._ Sure, you had stopped hanging out with Danny soon after you starting dating your boyfriend, but he couldn't know…

"Been busy," you said with a shrug, attempting to keep your body language neutral while completely forgetting how your fingers twisted anxiously in your lap. "You know how it is."

"Mm," Ward added with a non-committal noise, and you shot an annoyed glance his direction. Why did he had to be here _tonight_ of all nights?

"What's that supposed to mean?" Irritation bled into your voice despite your best efforts to remain composed. The _last_ thing you needed was Ward-goddamn-Meachum riding your ass for something that was clearly none of his business.

"Everyone's busy," he responded with a half shrug, the amber liquid in his glass shifting with the movement. "Saying your 'busy' isn't saying much at all. At least make an effort if you're going to avoid the subject."

"Ward," Danny warned in a low voice.

"Danny," he responded as he brought his glass to his lips, smirking.

"I'm _officially_ cutting you off. Too much scotch makes you a jackass," Danny said, his chastising but somehow still… affectionate.

Your hands slowly curled into fists on your lap.

"Doesn't mean I'm wrong," Ward said while licking his lips, looking just like a self-satisfied cat as he turned his eyes on you. A damn pampered cat who did whatever the hell he wanted and expected the world to worship him for it.

"I _have_ been busy, Ward," you repeated in a tight voice, fingers curled like tightened coils as you glared at him. But that smirk, that _stupid_ smirk, was still on his face. He knew you were lying. Liars often recognized their own kind.

Something inside, something bent too far for too long, broke under the unrelenting pressure.

" _What the hell do you know?"_ you snapped viciously, narrowing your eyes as you focused your pent-up rage and anger at the well-coiffed man in front of you. "You've barely spoken a word to me in years, Ward. You couldn't be bothered then, so don't pretend to care now."

You could see the quick turn of Danny's blond head out of the corner of your eye, but you ignored him to stare hard at Ward. The smirk, there one moment in all of its mockery, began to slowly fade away from Ward's face, filling you with bitter satisfaction.

"Not a word from you, no matter how often I tried to reach out, you just ignored me like I was an unwanted stranger," you said in a strained, unsteady voice, your fists trembling in your lap. "And now you just want me to freely share what's been going on with my life, simply because you _ask?_ What gives you the goddamn _right?"_

A small voice in the back of your head told you to stop before you said something you couldn't take back, but the anguish and fury and fear all bubbled to the surface as you hissed, "At least Danny was trapped on a mountain in the middle of the goddamn Himalayas. What's _your_ excuse?"

The silence that followed was heavy with the impact of your words. Danny's eyes had gone round with shock, while Ward had remained completely still, his frozen expression unreadable.

A long breath of air rushed out of your lungs, and you could almost feel yourself deflate as your shoulders caved inwards, burying your face in your hands as your elbows dug into the top of your thighs.

And just like that, the anger was spent, stinging regret inevitably filling the hole it had left behind.

 _Fuck._


	3. Chapter 3

"God, I'm so sorry. I don't know why I said that," you whispered, horrified. You felt vulnerable, naked, but at least you couldn't see their expressions past your trembling fingers.

The silence continued, but you knew what was to come. Danny would ask you to leave for being so unforgivably rude, and then you'd be on your own, again. Having to deal with the mess you had made yourself. It's what you should have done from the beginning.

"I'll go," you said firmly, proud of yourself for not allowing your voice to crack. You stood and moved around the loveseat before they could say a word, hoping to be out the door before you had a chance to see their disappointment and disgust.

But then a mop of blond curls blocked your view of the only exit, and you blinked, wondering how he could move so fast. He didn't touch you, but Danny's hands were up, palms forward in a universal sign of _wait._

"Please, don't leave," Danny spoke in a slow, calm voice, as if he were talking to a wounded animal. "Just… talk to us. Tell us what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong," you replied while refusing to meet his eye. "I'm sorry I came. This was a mistake."

"You walking out that door right now would be a mistake."

Ward's baritone voice, so close behind you, made you nearly jump out of your skin as you whirled around to face him. His jaw was set into a familiar scowl, but his eyes weren't hard or angry. He seemed… concerned?

No, that couldn't be right. Ward Meachum didn't care about anyone but himself.

Regardless, it appeared you were trapped. The two of them had decided to corral you, blocking the way for your escape, and it made you want to resist their kindness in a sort of self-destructive stubbornness that you seemed to have acquired recently.

"Yeah? Why's that, Ward?" you asked with a mixture of defiance and bitterness, itching for a fight. An argument. _Something._ Anything to make him stop staring at you like he actually gave a shit.

"Because I'm familiar with that look of self-loathing. I know where it leads. And trust me, you don't want to go there."

That… was not the answer you had expected. Nor the tone he used, as if he was… confiding. Or sympathizing.

It took you back fifteen years, to when you were just teenagers trying to reconcile with the fact Danny was dead and never coming back.

And those memories of Ward, the ones you held dear to your heart, only served to further fuel the heat of rage in your chest.

" _Bullshit._ You don't know a thing about me. We're not kids anymore, Ward, and you have no right to pretend you actually give a flying rat's ass about me." He took the stinging insults without so much as flinching. As if he had heard worse.

"Just get out of my way, Ward."

He stared down at you, unimpressed and unmoved by your heated tone.

"No."

"Ward," Danny spoke gently, and it killed you to hear the pain in his voice. "If she wants to leave—"

"Shut up, Danny," Ward replied, but without any real bite to his voice. His dark eyes never left yours, even as you glared back with all of the animosity you could muster, the sting of frustrated tears blurring your vision. "I know what I'm talking about."

Logistically speaking, it was an idiot move to try to get Ward to budge as opposed to the smaller, wiry Danny Rand, but you couldn't bear to look at him at that moment. _Much_ better to direct your anger and hostility at Ward. It almost felt like he deserved it.

You moved forward, blatantly invading Ward's personal space as you stood chest to chest.

"Move."

"No," he repeated, face inches away from yours. He hadn't even flinched from the close proximity. "Not until you say what you obviously came here to say."

"I don't have anything to say to _you_."

"You're angry, but I'm not the one you're really pissed at."

"You don't know _shit_ about _shit,_ Ward."

"I do know some shit. And this is shit I do know."

"You're a goddamn asshole," you spat viciously, hoping to wound him. Make him wince. But he simply shrugged and said:

"Yeah. And? Pretty sure that's not news to anyone here."

It was too much. His careless attitude, his refusal to back off. To let you go. He had no problem with abandoning you before. And now, he had the nerve to pretend he actually _cared?_

" _Fuck you,_ Ward Meachum."

You rushed forward, face twisted as you reached out with your hands to shove him away. That's what you _meant_ to do. But as soon as you collided with his solid form, your fingers gripped the front of his vest and you buried your face against his chest as the dam burst from the inescapable pressure within.

And before you knew it, you were sobbing against his very expensive dress shirt, clinging onto his vest as if it was a life raft, which seemed appropriate. You felt like you were drowning, unable to breathe through the sobs that quaked throughout your entire body. The resentment and anger evaporated into bitter grief.

You had screwed up beyond belief. You had ruined your life, and there was no way out. Your world was collapsing and you couldn't even muster up the air to cry for help. It was all over for you, and you knew it.

But then warm arms were around you, enveloping you in a close embrace. You weren't sure what you had expected. Perhaps for Ward to shove you away. Tell you what an unstable, neurotic basket case you were.

Instead, you felt his strong arms across your back, holding you firmly.

And then there was a hand on your lower back, below Ward's arms, and Danny was there, saying something. You couldn't hear over the sound of your own harsh crying, but you didn't need to understand the words to catch the soothing tone of his voice.

Unfortunately, it made you sob even harder.

"W-where… were… you…" You gasped for breath, fighting to get the words out, "…when I n-needed you… the both of you…"

The arms around you tightened almost imperceptibly. You could hear the timbre of Ward's voice vibrate through his chest as he spoke, "Like you said, Danny was trapped on a mountain in the Himalayas." One of his arms loosened, moving upward to caress the top of your head, stroking your hair. "I had no such excuse."

The gentle touch felt so surreal. This wasn't the Ward Meachum you knew. But it _worked_ , whatever he was doing. Your sobs slowly quieted into hiccups, but he didn't release you, instead rocking you gently back and forth as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"It's not just that, is it?" Danny spoke from near your left ear, and you turned your head, laying your cheek against Ward's chest so you could meet his eye. The pained expression you found there was nearly unbearable, especially since you were its source.

You slowly shook your head, difficult to do while you seemed incapable of letting go of your other childhood friend, and Danny's expression softened.

"When I took you out to lunch two weeks ago. You seemed distracted. Anxious. Unsure. And I completely missed it," he said in a soft tone, somehow turning it around to lay the blame at his own feet. A childhood habit he hadn't seemed to outgrow. But you shook your head again and stuttered:

"Not… your fault. I didn't tell you… c-couldn't tell you. Trapped. Still am."

"Trapped? With what?" Danny asked while still rubbing your back, and oh God, you wanted to tell him so badly. To unburden yourself and place your problems on someone else's shoulders for once. Someone stronger than you. Someone who wasn't so broken and fucked-up.

Instead of confessing the intention for your visit, you just slowly shook your head again. You realize your outburst had painted you into a corner: you had little choice but to tell them now. But you were so _scared_. They had no idea what they were getting into.

If anything happened to Danny… hell, if something happened to Ward… you didn't know what you would do.

"You can trust us, (Y/N). You know that, right?" Danny tried again, the gentle smile on his face weakening your resolve.

"It's not… not that," you said, searching his eyes, hoping he would understand without needing to know more. "I just… don't want anyone to get hurt."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" By Ward's tone, he was either extremely puzzled or very concerned. It was difficult to tell with the ever-present sarcastic tinge of his voice.

Before the question could be explored further, a high-pitched whistling filled the air, and Danny said, "Water's done. I'll be right back, okay?" He waited for you to give a shaky nod before retreating to the kitchen.

And then Ward loosened his arms, placing his hands on your shoulders so he could pull back and look straight into your face. It made you want to squirm out of his grip, despite the fact a large part of you wanted to retreat into his arms again, safe and sound. But he saw too much. You had no idea when Ward Meachum had become so perceptive, but it didn't bode well for your chances of avoiding entangling the two men in your crisis.

"If you don't want to tell me, it's fine. I get it. I won't hold it against you. Just…" he searched your eyes before adding, "Please tell Danny. He'll listen. He won't judge, and he'll do anything to help you."

You pressed your lips tightly together, as if the action could hold the rest of you together, and your voice was raw and trembling as you said, "That's what I'm afraid of."

Ward expelled a light sigh, as if your continued stubbornness was only a mild obstacle, and he released your shoulders.

"We're all adults here, (Y/N). Well… sometimes, I wonder about Danny. But," and he placed a hand against your back, guiding you around the coffee table toward the long couch, "you can't bury your problems in denial, hoping things will change. It doesn't work that way, unfortunately."

You shivered as you sat down on the couch while Ward retrieved the grey blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders once more. Not quite as effective as an actual hug, but it did help soothe the shaking in your muscles.

"Sometimes you have to rely on others. Even if it's not your first choice," he said softly, releasing the blanket as he did, and you wondered just who this person was, wearing Ward Meachum's expensive clothes and Ward Meachum's scowling face.

"You make it sound so easy," you responded as you wrapped the blanket tighter around you, sniffling and wiping at your eyes which still burned from the tears you had shed.

"It's not," he replied as he sat beside you, apparently untroubled by the fact you had practically assaulted him, then sobbed against his chest, not even two minutes ago. "I had to find this shit out the hard way. _Several_ times. Because I'm also a stubborn idiot."

You gave an unexpected snort of laughter, which may or may not have made the corner of Ward's mouth twitched. He pulled a tissue box from one of the side tables and handed it to you, causing you to drop your eyes and give a mumbled, "Thanks." Now that your emotions were somewhat under control, you had to resist the urge to cover your head with the blanket and never emerge again.

"You, though? You're a lot smarter than me, (Y/N). You always were." Ward's tone made you turn to look at him, questioningly. His expression was almost soft. You couldn't stare at it for long.


	4. Chapter 4

"All right, here we are."

You turned your head at the sound of Danny's voice as he returned, carrying… well, not an ordinary mug, that was for sure. He held a saucer, cup, and lid, all made from perfectly clear glass with steaming water contained inside. Danny set down a second cup beside it, much smaller and with a curved handle.

Danny lifted the lid and releasing the steam into the air.

"What's that?" you asked, curious despite yourself. You had never seen a pot like that before, and it almost reminded you of a mortar bowl.

"It's a _gaiwan_ , used for steeping tea in a more traditional way."

"Oh."

"Hold out your hand."

The look on his face was of barely suppressed delight, his lips pressed into a line that failed to hide his smile. Your other friend was not nearly as amused.

"Danny…"

"Ward."

"Can you not be weird for one evening?"

Danny ignored the verbal jab and focused on you, blue eyes alight as he said, "Trust me. You'll like this."

More confused than alarmed, you held out your hand. He deposited a small, round, compact object into your hand. It looked like a ball of dried vegetation.

"Go ahead and place it in the water."

You searched his eyes and found only excitement there. Trusting your friend, you guided your hand over the glass cup, and were about to release it when Danny put his hand over yours.

"Gently. The water is hot, and you don't want it to splash."

You nodded, finding a blush creeping up your cheeks at the unfiltered fondness on his face as he looked at you. Bringing your attention back to the object in your hand, you manipulated it until it was held between the tips of your fingers, and you gingerly placed it into the scalding water.

You watched the green bundle, Danny's excitement nearly infectious as you waited for something to happen. But… nothing did. Instead, Danny replaced the clear lid on top, trapping the steam inside.

Ward made an amused noise to your left, and Danny calmly stated, "Patience in all things, and you will reap the rewards of your labors."

Glancing at your friend, you could see just how different he was from the boy you had known. He now possessed a quiet confidence, and moved as someone who was completely at ease with their own body. Danny stared at the tea cup, perfectly still, as if he was in meditation.

You decided to do the same, taking the time to sift through your thoughts. How much could you reveal? What would be the consequences if you did? What would Ward and Danny do when they found out you were being terrorized by your boyfriend? You doubted they would refuse to stand by and do nothing, and the last thing you wanted was for them to become embroiled in a criminal organization—

Your mind immediately snapped back to the present. It had moved. As you looked closer, the green bundle began to unravel, spreading itself across the surface of the water before suddenly sinking. As if opening itself to the sun, the green leaves spread to reveal a vibrant pink flower, vibrant and coloring the water with a honey-like hue.

"Oh," you said in quiet wonder, the troubles in your mind temporarily forgotten as you watched the flower continue to open before you. "It's beautiful."

"Worth the wait, right?" Danny asked with that sunshine smile of his, one which you couldn't help but return.

The groan from your left was long-suffering, and you turned to see Ward had picked up his scotch glass once more, one arm slung across the back of the couch near your head with one leg propped across his lap: the picture of someone getting comfortable and not planning to move for a while.

"Amazing," Ward commented with the dryness of a desert shrub. "Couldn't you have served something, I donno… _normal?"_

Danny's eyebrows furrowed as he looked past you to the young CEO, trying to puzzle out what he meant.

"Like, something more traditional?"

"Sure, Danny."

"Well… I could have made her butter tea, but I don't have any yak's milk."

You released a louder snort of laughter, covering your mouth when you saw that Danny's face remained the same.

"You're… kidding, right?"

"Oh no, he's perfectly serious," Ward responded, taking a sip of his scotch. "Aren't you, Danny?"

"Butter tea is a stable of K'un-Lun and the surrounding region."

"With… yak's milk," you clarified, still believing they were trying to pull one over on you.

"Of course," Danny responded with furrowed eyebrows. "What else would we use?"

"What about donkey milk?" Ward chimed in, his voice alight with mischief. "Or do you only use them for your donkey cart races?"

You looked back at Danny, expecting him to laugh at what was _clearly_ a joke, but instead he frowned and said, "Of course we didn't use donkeys for their milk. That's ridiculous. They're much better as means of transport."

"Wow," you commented, another peel of laughter threatened to bubble up from your chest. "You really did live in a monastery, didn't you?"

Danny gave a nod, almost shy as he said, "It must seem strange," and you could see the blush creeping into his cheeks. Which of course, immediately made you feel terrible for teasing him, so you placed a hand over his and squeezed it. He looked up, searching your face for the mockery he expected, but found you only giving him a gentle smile.

"I think that's pretty neat, actually," you said, squeezing his hand, and he grinned in return. You half-expected Ward to make a snide comment, but he remained silent from his side of the couch.

"So," you cleared your throat as you released his hand, returning your attention back to the cup and saucer. "How, uh… do I drink this, exactly?"

"Well," Danny leaned forward, clearly in his element as his blue eyes were rapt with warmth. "You pour the tea into the second cup, holding the brewer in one hand. But it takes practice to not burn your fingers or spill the tea, so…"

"Show me," you responded quickly. In truth, you wanted to see the excitement in his eyes as he showed you something he was intimately familiar with. You knew very little about his experiences after his plane had crashed in the Himalayas, and you felt guilt for not being more curious after his return. Even if your reasons were distraction were legitimate ones. "I want to learn."

"Okay," Danny flashed you a dazzling smile as he leaned forward again, indicating the brewer. "Move the lid slightly, so it'll create a space for the tea when you pour it."

You did as instructed, the glass warm under your fingertip as you held down the knob at the top, slightly tipping the lid to the side.

"Keep holding your index finger in that dip at the top there. Just like that. Now," and he reached around your hand, gently placing your thumb on one side of the cup and your middle finger on the other, "lift the brewer with one hand and pour it into the second cup. Make sure you're pressing down tightly on the lid, or it'll all come spilling out."

You nodded that you understood, a warm feeling spreading where Danny had made contact with your skin, and you lifted the cup once he had released your hand. You pressed down on the lid just as he instructed, and tipped the cup forward, noting that the tea flower inside had fully bloomed into a dazzling display of vibrant pink and yellow.

"Tip it a little more, so the tea doesn't run back down the side of the brewer. Like this," he said as he covered your hand in his, turning the cup so that it was at a nearly ninety degree angle. You worried that the tea would rush out too quickly, but it poured smoothly into the second cup, this one porcelain with a blue flora display along its rim.

"Perfect," Danny pronounced once the cup was nearly full, and he beamed at you proudly as you set the brewer back in its saucer. "Next time I can teach you how to drink directly from the brewer. Some people say it doesn't taste as flavorful, but I disagree. Plus, it's kind of a fun challenge to master the art of drinking from a _gaiwan_ without burning yourself with scalding water."

You gave a small laugh, unable to help yourself, but you immediately covered your mouth, afraid he would take it as a sign of mockery. But the fond smile that spread across his face told you he wasn't offended.

"Yes. _Fun_ is definitely the word I would use," Ward spoke up from your left (you could practically hear the unseen eye roll in his voice). "While this is _extremely_ fascinating, maybe we should—"

Danny shot him a warning look, and he abruptly stopped talking. That was new. _Danny_ interrupting _Ward?_ And Ward _letting_ him do it?

"Here." Danny took the steaming cup, filled with the dark honey-colored tea and offered it to you. "It should be cool enough to drink."

"Thank you," you responded with a smile, surprised at how easy it was to form the expression. You couldn't remember the last time you had experienced anything _to_ smile about.

As you brought the steaming tea to your lips, it was easy to pretend you really were just visiting with a friend. No dark ominous cloud floating above your head, waiting to pour thunder and misery down on your head.

The first sip was almost too hot, but you forced yourself to drink it, craving the warmth that could chase away the chill in your bones. You closed your eyes as you tasted the liquid, a strange infusion of subtly sweet flavors and the edge of something slightly tart. It tasted like something not of this world, and that fit your evolving picture of Danny somehow.

Finally, you opened your eyes to find your childhood friend staring at you with an earnestness that made you smile again.

"How does it taste?" Danny asked, as if the question was of upmost importance to him.

"Like a garden," you said, and Danny's grin was bright and happy.

"It's made from lavender, rose, lemon balm, and chamomile. It's supposed to be very soothing," he added, his eyebrows pulled together in that earnest way again, clearly hoping the tea will have a beneficial effect on your obviously agitated demeanor.

Guilt made you look away, focusing on the coffee table as you continued to sip the tea. It really was an interesting flavor, and you were surprised you didn't need to heap mountains of sugar on it like you usually preferred.

The three of you sat in silence for a while, and it almost felt amicable. Ward had gone back to nursing his drink; Danny appeared perfectly at ease, careful not to stare in your direction as he undoubtedly waited for you to begin talking.

You didn't. Not at first. But they waited, patient and silent. And it worked.

You set the half-empty cup onto the glass table and slowly stated, "I'm seeing someone." You had to take another breath for this next part, your lungs attempting to rebel while your throat worked painfully.

"And… he makes me afraid."


	5. Chapter 5

Focused as you were on the table, you only caught their reactions in your peripheral vision. Danny turned to stare at you with naked worry, which wasn't surprising. What _was_ surprising was the way Ward went completely still. You glanced his way, and from the close distance, you could see the taut muscles of his jawline working underneath his skin.

"Has he hurt you?" Danny asked bluntly, and you almost winced at the question.

"Not really…" you answered, unwilling to make a bigger deal out of it than you already had.

"Define 'not really.'" Ward, of course, refusing to let that one go. You shrugged, watching your fingers bend and twist in your lap.

"He's never hit me," you responded truthfully.

"That's a very narrow definition of harm," Ward responded dryly. "Has he caused you physical pain?" You chanced looking at him out of the corner of your eye and flushed when you saw he had his undivided attention on you.

"Nothing serious," you said, pulling the blanket closer around you. "He's… I mean, he's grabbed my arm before. And sort of pushed me, earlier tonight."

Ward's expression remained the same, but his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Danny, on the other hand, had undergone quite the change. Before, where there had been concern and worry, there was now a building anger.

"He _pushed_ you?" Danny asked with definite hostility.

"It wasn't hard," you responded, wanting to curl in on yourself, sickened by the fact you had just _defended_ your abusive partner.

"Maybe not this time," Ward spoke from your left, his tone somber. "And maybe he won't do it again for a while. But next time? Next time, it'll be worse."

His tone distracted you from your misery for the moment as you eyed him curiously.

"How do you know?"

Now it was his turn to look away, taking a last sip from his scotch glass.

"Because it's what men like that _do_." He didn't say more. You didn't push, as much as you wanted to know more. You understood not wanting to have someone in your personal business. Especially the painful kind.

"And you're still… with this guy?" Danny asked slowly, a severe frown on his face. You could tell he was attempting to push aside the anger, and you had to admit you were surprised he felt so strongly about your… situation.

"Yes," you responded, knowing the fight that evening wasn't enough to end things with your boyfriend. It hadn't been the first time you'd stormed out of the apartment.

"Can't you just… I don't know. Leave him?" he asked plaintively. You understood the need for the question, and his apparent confusion, but it still made you flush with shame. You shook your head, and he pressed, "I don't understand. Why would you stay?"

"I don't… I can't…" you responded, feeling as if you were having poisonous barbs being pulled from your body, one by one. The experience was far more painful than you had anticipated, even with all your pessimism.

"Of course you can," Danny replied. "You have free will. You choose how to live your life, not him. He doesn't own you."

You opened your mouth to respond, only to end up closing it again. You had no idea what to say. How to make him see. You were lost.

"It's not that simple, Danny." Ward rescued you from your paralyzed silence, and you finally took a breath when Danny turned his intense gaze off of you.

"Seems simple to me," the blond man responded, and Ward scoffed at him.

"That's because you still have a very simplistic view of the world we live in." Danny looked like he was about to argue, but Ward added, "Don't you think if (Y/N) was able to leave, she would have done so already?" As you watched, he finished draining his (second, third?) glass of scotch, placed it on the table, and said, "Use your head, Danny. There's a reason."

You expected Danny to bristle at Ward's words, but instead he looked somewhat mortified, blinking as he turned back to you.

"Is… is Ward right?" he softly asked, and you had to look away before nodding your head. Why was it _so_ hard to speak about it?

"Will you tell us the reason why?" When you didn't answer, Danny reached up and placed a hand on your shoulder. It took every ounce of willpower not to flinch away. "I don't want to pressure you into talking before you're ready. We just want to help, in any way we can."

There was that _we_ again. But unlike before, you believed its sincerity now. Ward had shown he obviously did care, and while you weren't sure why, or when his attitude had changed, it was clear he was no longer the selfish, arrogant boy you had known as a child.

You finally met Danny's gaze, saw the pure, genuine good there, and you gave a small nod. He squeezed your shoulder before releasing it, and there was a part of you that wished he hadn't let go. You needed all the support and comfort you could take.

You let out a heavy breath, inhaled slowly, and spoke.

"I do want to leave. I've wanted to leave… for a long time. But I knew no matter where I ran, or hid… he would find me." You took another breath and closed your eyes, feeling as if you were standing on the edge of a precipice and you were going to fall. Or perhaps you were preparing to jump.

It was right there, on the tip of your tongue. _Why couldn't you say it?_

A soft, firm warmth covered your hands, and you opened your eyes to discover Danny had slipped his hands over yours as they lay curled in your lap.

"Take your time," he said with such gentleness that you wanted to cry. What had you done to deserve such kindness?

You licked the dryness from your lips and pressed on.

"My boyfriend is… he's a member of a… gang, I guess you could call them. A criminal organization. Not the leaving kind, either. Membership is for life, as far as I understand it." You closed your eyes again, but slightly twisted your fingers so you could hold on to Danny's hands. He squeezed your fingers in return, giving you the strength to open your eyes.

You expected to see worry and concern on Danny's face, and that was certainly there. But there was something else in his expression. Something odd. And you realized he was actually looking past you, presumably to Ward, but his gaze flicked back to yours when he noticed you watching.

"Do you know the name of this… organization?" Danny asked, his eyes searching yours.

You hesitated.

"No," you said, the lie sliding easily across your tongue. More easily than you were comfortable with. "We... don't really talk about that kind of thing. I didn't find out what he did for a living until much later, and I find it easier to not know the details." You looked back down to your hands, but Danny was still holding them. It made it easier to keep speaking, and you found yourself strangely unable to stop now that you had started, the words tumbling from your lips.

"When we first started dating, he told me he was a courier. And it was true, to a certain extent. He did deliver things for these people. But then, one night, he… returned home. His shirt was drenched in blood." You could still remember the night with perfect clarity. He had stumbled into the apartment at three in the morning, weaving like a drunk as he made his way to the bathroom. You had been unable to understand why his hands were scarlet red. They were shaking, badly, but his face had been oddly blank.

"When I asked him what happened, he told me… he had been promoted. I had no idea what he was talking about, and thought maybe he had a concussion or something. And then he… he said the things he did weren't entirely legal. That part of what he did now was… hurt people that needed to be hurt."

Specifically, he had told you he now eliminated people for the Hand, but that was not a detail Ward or Danny needed to know.

"I actually _did_ leave," you said with a sad sort of laugh. "I didn't have a lot of money, but I found a cheap motel. He found me. Said that… that if I left, the people he worked for might hurt me. Because I knew they existed now. And he said he would never let that happen. That he would always protect me."

Self-loathing twisted in your gut for having believed him. For having trusted him. Even then, the darkness in his eyes had only just begun to appear. He hadn't begun to scare you at that point. Not yet.

"I'm a coward," you stated plainly when neither Danny nor Ward spoke. And you believed it too. Hearing your own hollow excuses ringing in your ears made you feel disgusting, tainted and unclean, and you wondered how Danny could even bear to touch you.

"You're _not_ a coward," Danny responded, immediately and firm. "You're anything but a coward. You're… amazing and brave and wonderful. And that hasn't changed at all in the past fifteen years." That made you look up sharply, but there was nothing but honesty in his face. You would have blushed if you hadn't felt so confused. Why would he say these things about you after what you had just confessed?

"The blame rests on his head. Not yours," Danny reiterated while meeting your gaze, and you wanted to protest. Tell him he was wrong, that you did share in the blame. But you knew he wouldn't hear of it, and by this point, exhaustion was draining away your motivation to argue. Mentally, emotionally, and physically, you were drained beyond belief, and just wanted to shut the world away for a while.

"I just… I don't know what to do," you admitted.

"I think you do."

Ward's voice nearly startled you for the second time that evening as you turned in your seat to look at him. He had remained silent during your admission, and you almost wondered if he had gotten bored with your tale. But from the intent look on his face, he was far from disinterested.

"What?"

He made a small gesture with his hands and said, "You didn't wander up to Danny's apartment because the mood struck you for some friendly company. You knew what you were doing, even if it was only subconsciously."

It didn't take a whole lot of soul-searching to know Ward was right. You had reached a breaking point, and while you didn't have a specific goal in mind, you hadn't known where else to turn. Danny had been your desperate grab for something solid to hold on to.

You just hadn't expected _Ward_ to be a part of it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go," you finally confessed, looking back at Danny apologetically. "I don't want to drag you into this. Either of you," you added with a quick glance in Ward's direction. "I was just…" You floundered for words, unable to specifically pinpoint what you wanted or needed.

"You don't ever have to apologize for needing help. Or for asking for it," Danny said with a squeeze of his hands. "Ever. No matter what. Okay?" He held your gaze firmly, not allowing you to look away, and you finally nodded, knowing the fragility of your emotions showed on your face.

"We'll figure this out. Together," Danny said with a confidence you didn't understand. "You don't have to worry or be afraid anymore," he added with a warm smile, and you were starting to relax until he spoke again. "Ward and I will sort it out in the morning. But right now, you look like you're about to pass out, so I'll grab some blankets for the couch, and you can take the bedroom—"

You pulled your hands out of Danny's, startled as your eyes went wide.


	6. Chapter 6

"What? No!" you protested as you pulled away from Danny. He looked startled, and before he could speak, you explained, "I-I can't impose on you. I'll stay in a hotel or something."

Ward snorted and said, "Right. Because you're definitely imposing on Danny in his giant, multi-million dollar loft." When you didn't respond, Ward fixed you with an amused expression. "Do you even have money for a hotel?"

You opened your mouth to say of course you did, but then you closed it again, remembering you had left your wallet behind after your quick exodus.

"If you truly wish to stay in a hotel, I will pay," Danny offered, even though it was clear he would rather you stay, and you immediately began to shake your head. "You're not staying out on the streets, (Y/N). And you're not going back to… to _him_."

The disgust in Danny's voice was very clear, and you could only stare at him helplessly. He gave you a disarming smile, his voice reasonable as he said, "Besides, Ward isn't wrong. What's the point of having a nice place in a fancy building if I can't use it to help friends in need?"

You wanted to argue with him, you really did. But you were exhausted and didn't have the energy to fight it. And truth be told… the idea of Danny in the next room while you slept was a sort of comfort and safety you hadn't felt in months.

"Okay, okay," you relented, giving him an unhappy look which did nothing to dull his bright smile. "But I'm taking the couch."

"Not a chance," Danny said, rising to his feet with that grin still on his face. "The bed is too soft for me, and I usually come out here and sleep on the floor anyway."

You heard an amused sigh come from Ward, who was also getting to his feet, reaching for the jacket he had draped across the armchair he had been previously occupying.

"Where do you think you're going?" Danny's attention had turned to Ward, eyebrows furrowed.

"Home, Danny," Ward replied while giving him a look. "Since you decided to make plans for me tomorrow, I'm going to get at least a couple hours of sleep."

Quicker than you would have thought possible, Danny lunged forward and put his hand into Ward's jacket pocket before he could slip his arms into the sleeves, snatching his car key fob and dancing out of Ward's long but slower reach.

"Not after three glasses of scotch, you're not," Danny mused with a smirk on his face while Ward pursed his lips in blatant irritation.

"Cute, Danny. But three glasses is hardly anything to get excited about." You raised your eyebrows as Ward tried very hard to keep his composure while Danny grinned at him. "Give me my keys."

"Nope," Danny responded playfully while continuing to stay just far enough away from Ward that he couldn't catch him, keeping some piece of furniture between the two of them. "Friends don't let friends do drugs or drive drunk."

"Thank you, Danny D.A.R.E. But you're a bit too goddamn late for that." Ward tried again, grabbing for his keys, but Danny moved out his way as if he were part feline.

"Hey, c'mon Ward," Danny said in a softer tone, his eyes wide. "I had no idea what was going on with you. You know I would have helped if I had known, right?"

You had no idea what Danny was talking about, but Ward certainly did, and he growled in annoyance and lunged for the keys again. Danny pivoted as gracefully as a dancer, and Ward shot right past him and slammed into the round dining table, his thighs hitting the wooden edge.

You winced as Ward cursed loudly and turned around, slightly doubling over as he braced his hands against his legs painfully. Danny began to approach him, looking very worried, and was probably about to apologize when Ward spat, " _Fuck._ Fine. All right, Danny. You win." The next words were said in an irritated grumble, "But only because I'm tired and don't want to deal with avoiding running over drunk tourists. It's _not_ because I'm inebriated," he added, scowling in your direction as you held a hand over your mouth while trying not to smile.

Danny's look of relief was preceded by a bright grin as he clasped his hands together.

"Great. Ward will take the couch, (Y/N) will take the bedroom, and I'll take my usual spot in front of the window."

Ward grumbled something that sounded a lot like, _You're lucky I'm too tired for your bullshit, Danny,_ before he removed his jacket once more and flung it onto the armchair.

You hadn't moved from the couch during the entire exchange, watching with mixed parts fascination and curiosity. It was as if the friendship that could have been in their childhoods, but never was, had finally come to fruition. It was a strange thing to see, but it was also actually… really nice.

* * *

You predicted, wrongly, that you would have fallen asleep quickly because of the emotional turmoil of the evening. Instead, you ended up staring at the smooth, white ceiling, the dim lights of the ever-awake city filtering in through the curtains as you laid in Danny's massive bed.

He had offered to change the bedding, but you hadn't wanted to impose further (not to mention you didn't think you could stay on your feet for another minute). Now you're glad you had politely refused, because while the scent was very subtle, the sheets and pillows smelled like Danny. It brought you a sense of peace and safety, but not enough to sleep. You turned the earlier conversation over and over in your head, unable to understand certain aspects of it. Such as why Danny and Ward were willing to help (as reluctant as Ward appeared to be, he hadn't refused to become involved, so that meant something).

It wasn't just their kindness that had been unexpected. Ward and Danny had history. It had to have been recent history, considering Danny had only been back for a few weeks, but there was something there between the two of them. They were at ease with each other in a way that long-lasting friendships usually were. But how was that possible?

 _You know I would have helped if I had known, right?_

 _You're a bit too goddamn late for that._

It hadn't occurred to you that you might not be the only one living in the midst of a shitstorm. And it was that thought that raced through your head, over and over, until you had finally fallen into a restless sleep.

In fact, you wouldn't have believed that you had slept at all if not for the warm, yellow light shining into the room once you opened your eyes. The savory smell of breakfast also proved that time had indeed passed, and you pulled back the heavy covers to slide off of the fluffy bed. Danny hadn't been kidding when he said it was soft, which you had found a blessing on your stressed muscles.

Shuffling your way out of the bedroom, you yawned and stretched as you entered the living room. If Danny had slept on blankets in front of the window as he said he would, they were already put away. You assumed he had relocated to the kitchen from the smells and quiet noises of a utensil clinking against a pot or pan.

About to turn in that direction with the intent of seeking breakfast (you had been too tired for dinner), you paused when you saw something out of the corner of your eye. Approaching the living room, you realized what you saw was a foot covered with a black sock, and you peeked over the back of the couch.

Ward was still fast asleep, resting on his back with his head turned to the side, hands on his stomach. The buttons of his dress shirt had been undone, revealing the white undershirt he wore beneath. His tie had also been removed, joining his jacket on the armchair he had occupied the previous night. His black hair, normally tamed and slicked-back against his scalp, now hung around his face in a loose frame. The stubble growing on his cheeks furthered his unkempt image.

For just a moment, you could see the boy you had known fifteen years ago. The insecure, frightened kid who hid behind cruelty and meanness, but sometimes let that façade slip away when he didn't think anyone was looking. He looked so tired. Fragile. A naked vulnerability that you hadn't seen since Danny and his family had gone missing.

But then the boy was gone, and he was Ward again. A grown man you knew very little about now – a fact that filled you with a hollow kind of regret.

You had the sudden, irrational urge to smooth back his bangs from his face and rest your palm against the scruff of his cheek. It was a fleeting impulse, easy to brush away once it had passed, but the compulsion had been so strong.

What the _hell_ was wrong with you?

Turning your back on the couch before you could do something truly stupid, you padded your way to the kitchen, socked feet silent against the bare floor. You didn't make a sound, and yet as soon as you entered the doorway, Danny stopped what he was doing and looked over his shoulder, an easy smile on his face.

It shouldn't have come to a surprise to you that Danny was clearly a morning person, and you gave him a dubious look.

"Don't worry, I've got a pot of coffee right there- waiting for you."

"How did you know I drink coffee?" you asked as you took a mug from the counter and pulled out the coffee pot, breathing in the aroma deeply.

"I didn't," Danny said as he spooned something in a pot on the stove. "But Ward is a member of the living dead until he gets at least two cups."

You paused halfway through pouring the coffee. "Oh." You didn't know what else to say. The idea of Danny knowing what Ward was like in the morning had some interesting connotations, and it made you peer toward your friend when he returned his attention back to cooking.

You replayed the earlier evening in your head once more, but from a different perspective as you focused on Ward and Danny's interactions. But you couldn't find anything definitive that pointed to them as a couple.

Besides the fact that Ward had been at Danny's apartment at night. Clearly at ease with Danny. And only seemed to want to leave once it was clear you were staying the night.

Your gut clenched with guilt. You didn't have proof that you had interrupted something, but if you had, Danny would be too polite to say. And Ward would be too belligerent to admit something so personal. So that left you wondering with almost no clues as to the true nature of their relationship.

"So, uh…" you said as you poured milk and creamer into your mug. "I… about last night…"

"If you're going to apologize," Danny gently interrupted, moving the pot off of the hot burner and turning off the gas, before turning to look at you, "then I'll stop you right there. You have nothing to be sorry for." He fixed you with his sharp, blue eyes, making sure you couldn't look away. "Ward and I are your friends, even if… we haven't been the greatest friends in the world. And I hope you can forgive us for that."

You blinked. _Danny_ was apologizing to _you?_

"No… Danny… it's not your fault," you said as you held the coffee mug tightly in your hands. It was hard to meet his gaze, but you forced yourself to do so anyway. "I didn't tell you what was happening to me. And you've been a wonderful friend. I mean, you let me kick you out of your own bed," you added with a sheepish smile. "If anything, I owe you."

"Generosity doesn't require reciprocity. That's why it's generosity." Danny immediately winced and said, "Sorry. That didn't sound nearly so arrogant in my own head."

You gave him a more genuine smile, noticing with fondness the way his cheeks would turn pink when he was flustered or embarrassed. Which seemed to happen quite often, at least since you had arrived.

"Wisdom can often be mistaken for arrogance from those who don't like the message," you responded with mock solemnity, and Danny actually laughed as he began to pour the oatmeal from the pot.

"You could have held your own against the clever tongues of the Masters of K'un-Lun, I think." Danny smiled at you over his shoulder as he added various ingredients to the bowls of mushy grain. "How do you take your oatmeal? Brown sugar? Fruit?"

"Wow," you remarked as you moved closer, eyeing the flavors on display. Strawberries, blueberries, raspberries. Even slices of kiwi fruit. "I haven't had oatmeal since I was a kid. No bacon and eggs?"

The color crept back into his cheeks as Danny avoided your gaze, placing several berries of various hues into his bowl. "We ate simple meals in K'un-Lun. I find I can't stomach many foods since I've returned, including meat and other greasy foods."

"They were Buddhist monks, right?" you asked as you spooned brown sugar and cinnamon onto your oats. Danny had tried to explain where he had been and how he had lived during your last lunch, but your mind had been so preoccupied with your own problems at the time that you couldn't recall much. It sent another odd, hollow pang of regret through your chest. "Aren't all Buddhists vegetarian?"

"Not necessarily," Danny responded, leaning against the counter and stirring his food before looking up at you. "The earlier texts don't specifically forbid eating meat, but it does forbid taking a life. Which some would argue killing an animal does. The Masters followed this interpretation, anyway. And, I guess… I donno. It kind of stuck with me," he responded slowly, looking back down at his oatmeal.

"I'm sorry, I was curious. I don't mean to pry." You looked down at your own bowl, having heaped on much of the fruit. All that sugar was going to probably send you into hyper-mode more efficiently than the coffee, but it wasn't every day you got to taste fresh fruit.

"No, no. Not at all. I just forget sometimes that… that things are so different. I'm still getting used to being back," he admitted while still avoiding your eye. It made your chest feel tight, and you had to do something to something to wipe away that look of guilt from his face. You couldn't understand why he would feel bad for having a difficult time adjusting. He was doing better than most people would have, in your opinion.

You moved from your spot near the fridge and sidled up next to him, your hip bumping his, causing him to look up, startled.

"You don't ever need to apologize to me, Danny," you spoke gently. "I can't imagine what you've been through, and if there's anything I can do to make things easier for you, please tell me. I want to help, if I can."

His clear blue eyes searched yours, and you weren't sure if he found what he was looking for, but his slow, dimpled smile soon appeared.

"You're a good person, (Y/N). I'm serious," he added when you slightly rolled your eyes. "You're the first person to offer to help me since I've returned."

"But…" You paused as your gaze flickered toward the living room. "What about Ward?"

Danny gave a small smile and said, "Many people have assisted me, including Ward, but none of them actually looked me in the eye and asked what I needed. Especially with… with this," he said, gesturing around the shining kitchen. "With adjusting. With life. With learning to be an adult in this strange world I thought I once knew. I still don't know what I'm doing. And I'm bound to make a few more mistakes before I finally get the hang of it."

"I donno," you smiled as you popped a spoonful of strawberry into your mouth, savoring the tart sweetness. "You seem pretty well-put-together to me. I'm the mess that ended up on your doorstep, remember."

Danny gently prodded your side with his elbow and said, "If you're a mess, you're the cutest mess I've ever seen."

You nearly choked on a blueberry.


	7. Chapter 7

"You gotta warn me next time, Danny," you said after you managed to avert being asphyxiated by a piece of fruit, watching his face go from faintly tan to beet red within seconds. It was actually quite impressive.

"Warn him about what?"

The question came from a very groggy, very rumbly voice from the doorway. You looked up to see Ward slowly making his way toward the pair of you, his hair a mess as he rubbed his face with his hands. He hadn't even bothered to button up his shirt, and the sight of his sock-covered feet shuffling across Danny's tile floor made you want to start madly giggling. Clearly, you needed more sleep.

"Nothing," Danny said quickly, moving away from you a few inches as he shook his head with a jerky, nervous motion. "Coffee's in the pot."

"Thanks," Ward croaked as he stopped rubbing his eyes, converging on the coffee machine like a man in the desert finding an oasis. "Head hurts."

"Yes, well…"

" _Don't_ say it."

Danny gave him a smug grin and stated, "Hangovers will do that."

Ward gave him a dark look that would have been more intimidating if not for the redness around his eyes, and said, "I'm _not_ hungover. I know you wouldn't understand this, Mountain Man, but most of us are accustomed to sleeping in beds at night."

"My couch is hardly roughing it, Ward," Danny responded with a quirk of his brow. You continued to eat your breakfast while watching the exchange, trying to hide your inevitable smirk. "City life has made you soft."

Ward scoffed and rolled his eyes before lifting the steaming mug to his lips, drinking the coffee black. As you watched, you must have made a face because he shifted his gaze to you and grumbled, "What?"

"Isn't it bitter?" you asked curiously, tilting your head.

"You get used to it," Ward responded, his voice still rough from sleep. It was… not entirely unpleasant to listen to. "I'm sure Kung Fu Kid here will tell you the way I enjoy my coffee is a reflection of the state of my chi, or some bullshit like that."

"I would say the way you take your coffee is a reflection of your charming personality more than anything else," Danny said with a grin, and Ward moved to give him a playful shove, but the blond man danced out of his way, as graceful and controlled in his movements as he had been the night before.

"Don't your Buddhist teachings mention something about not being a jackass," Ward mumbled under his breath.

"The Five Precepts of Buddhism teach us not to lie, and technically, I didn't lie," Danny responded with a bright grin as he placed his empty dish in the dishwasher. Ward groaned and rolled his eyes again, which made you bite your lip so you wouldn't start grinning too. But then, Danny turned to you, his smile slightly fading.

"Hey, um, (Y/N)? Ward and I are going to be heading out in a bit, after I finish my meditations. You have free reign of the apartment while we're gone."

"Oh?" you asked slowly, not liking the nervous look in his eyes. "Where are you going?"

Danny gave an apologetic smile before saying, "To your apartment to get your belongings."

You coughed, nearly choking on a piece of produce for the second time that morning.

"What? Danny," you began to say, desperation in your voice, "you can't just—you can't just waltz in there and grab my stuff. He won't let you. He'll—"

"Don't worry about any of that, okay? Ward and I know how to handle ourselves," he explained with a glance in Ward's direction. Ward didn't disagree, instead sipping his coffee in silence. "Besides, there will be two of us. Cowards never engage unless they outnumber their adversaries," Danny said with a darkening expression.

You leveled your gaze at Danny.

"Three."

"I'm sorry?" Danny stared back in confusion.

"There will be three of us," you corrected him again.

"Excuse me?" It was Ward's turn to protest, moving the mug downwards so he could give you a hard stare.

"No offense, but I know what my junk looks like better than you do. I can grab it, throw it in some boxes or whatever, and we can be out of there that much sooner."

Ward chuckled darkly, his grin showing too much teeth as he said, "Yeah, that's not happening."

"Agreed," Danny responded, his normally bright blue eyes shadowed with concern. "You are not going back to that apartment."

"Yes. I am," you affirmed stubbornly, not backing down even though the power of Danny's puppy-dog eyes was a potent weapon he was currently wielding against you.

"(Y/N)…"

"I'm _going_ , Danny."

He gave a heavy sigh as Ward narrowed his eyes.

"That is a tremendously stupid idea," Ward chimed in while looking between you and Danny. "You're just going to enrage him. Provoke him by simply being there."

"That's his problem. Not mine." You set your half-eaten bowl down on the counter before turning back to the two men, crossing your arms across your chest. "If you're so damn confident in your abilities to retrieve my belongings without incident, than my presence shouldn't be a burden. Should it."

Danny's eyebrows furrowed in earnest worry, while Ward simply glared at you in a way that was probably supposed to be intimidating. It was, but you ignored it and continued.

"I love and appreciate how you want to help me, and I'm willing to accept that help. But I have to come with you. I _have_ to." You looked between them, pleading for them to understand. You knew it was probably wiser to stay behind. Keep as far away from your abuser as possible.

But that felt too much like surrender. And you had always been a fighter.

"I have to do this… for _me_ ," you insisted again, and Danny's worried expression turned to a sort of melancholy acceptance.

"I understand. And… while I don't like it, I will accept your decision." The hardness in your face softened, grateful for his understanding, but then you turned your gaze to Ward. He looked like he had swallowed something far more bitter than his coffee. Finally, he said:

"You're there to get your belongings. You don't talk to him, or engage him in any way. Got it?"

You bristled against his disapproving tone, eyes narrowing as you glared back at him.

"Don't talk to me like I'm still a teenage girl, Ward. Of course I won't pick a fight with him. I'm not an idiot."

Danny visibly winced at your harsh tone, which you immediately regretted, especially since Ward's stern expression dropped away for a split second, revealing the hurt underneath.

And then his face smoothed into a nonexpression, which was somehow more worrying. He set his coffee cup down on the table and turned to Danny.

"I'm going down to the office for a new change of clothes and to set my affairs in order for the rest of the day. Meet me there when you're ready."

Ward didn't even glance in your direction as he turned, striding purposefully from the kitchen. This time, seeing him walk across Danny's tiled floor in his socks wasn't funny. Not at all.

"It's like every time I open my mouth, I make things worse. I just can't seem to help myself," you said once Ward had vanished, your voice slightly shaky as traces of adrenaline worked through your body from the confrontation. "Ward probably hates me by now."

"He could never hate you," Danny responded gently, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. "We're all a little tense right now, and you've been through a traumatizing experience. He'll understand."

 _Will he?_ you wondered as you heard the front door shut with a final, empathic thud.

* * *

Before Danny had retreated to "meditate" (whatever that meant), he had offered to find you a clean pair of pants and a shirt that might fit, as well as the use of his shower. It turned out your hips were too wide for any of his pants, but you did find a grey T-shirt that fit, which was more important as you since your trek across Manhattan had left unsightly sweat stains on your top. Danny's shirt looked a little too big and proclaimed "Coney Island" on the front, along with a stylistic mermaid with starfish covering her breasts.

"It's… not ideal, I know," Danny began to say, but you grinned as you took the shirt and thanked him for it, wondering when he possibly gone out to Coney Island. It was hard to imagine him among the unsettling creepiness of the old Ferris wheels and roller coasters.

Danny had smiled awkwardly, almost nervously, and then had left you alone after giving you a quick run-down of how to use the shower. Which you definitely needed. You had never used a walk-in, rain-style shower before.

As the warm water hit the top of your head and cascaded down your shoulders, you gave an audible sigh. If this was how rich people got to live, it was truly unfair that you would get a taste before returning to your life of financial instability and struggle. Especially if you would be doing it on your own. But it was much better than the alternative, you reminded yourself as you washed off the contamination of the previous day.

Besides, if you visited Danny once in a while in order to use his killer shower, he wouldn't care, right?

You studied the haircare products in front of you, and weren't too surprised to find all-natural, organic shampoo and conditioner. You eagerly dumped the brown goo into your hands, lathering up your scalp and smiling at the floral aroma. It smelled like Danny.

After helping yourself to his shampoo, conditioner, and body soap, you felt like an entirely new person, especially after rubbing yourself down with Danny's high-thread count clean towels. You grinned as you spotted the hair dryer, wondering just how long Danny spent in front of the mirror each morning. Longer than you, judging by the fact his blond curls were always tamed to perfection and your hair was generally pulled into a careless bun.

Throwing on your pants (and Danny's T-shirt), you quickly dried your hair and checked yourself one last time in the mirror. You looked better than you had the previous night: you'd had dark circles under your eyes, face pale and drained. Now you looked refreshed, but there was no ignoring the tension in your face and shoulders, and you were glad you had only eaten oatmeal for breakfast.

The pressure in your gut continued to expand as you left the bathroom, seeking out Danny in hopes that you could leave soon and complete the task of confronting your soon-to-be ex. Because as insistent as Ward had been about you avoiding confrontation, there was no way he would leave you alone. Maybe once, your boyfriend would have let you go. But not this man he had become. That man would rather see you in misery with him than see you free and happy.

You found Danny easily enough; he was standing in front of the bay windows, his posture loose but focused as he made slow, methodical motions with his arms and shoulders. To be honest, it looked more like yoga than meditation to you, but your knowledge of such things were basically nil.

You didn't speak for a moment, feeling oddly bashful about interrupting your childhood friend as he did… well… whatever it was he was doing. But then he moved into a straight-backed, standing position, his hands pressed together in front of him before he visibly relaxed and turned to you. His smile was bright and refreshing, matching the sunlight streaming in through the windows behind him.

"Are you ready?"

You gave a small nod, trying to focus on his face and not on the way his muscles had moved beneath his shirt. You hadn't realized how toned he actually was across his wiry frame. _Definitely_ not the string-bean kid from your childhood memories, you were realizing with a mixture of odd feelings.

"Good," he responded, his voice as relaxed as the rest of his body, but his face did seem to gain some concern as he approached you. "If you change your mind… if you don't want to do this, let us know. We can turn around at any time. Leave the apartment at any moment. You just say the word. This is about what's best for you, and if it gets to be too much, well… Stuff can always be replaced. Your welfare is the most important thing." His eyes were warm as he stopped in front of you, his kind confidence unexpected and new to you.

You wanted to respond, but your throat had decided to develop a lump, preventing you from doing so. All you could do was nod, but that didn't feel like nearly enough. Before you could question yourself, you moved forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly as your eyes burned.

"Thank you," you whispered, throat still tight with overwhelming gratitude.

Danny didn't move for a few seconds, but then his arms were wrapped around your middle to tightly embrace you in return.

"You're welcome, (Y/N). If there's anything you ever need… anything at all…" he rubbed your back, his chest warm and solid against yours, "don't hesitate to ask."

You didn't want to let go, and not just because you dreaded what was ahead. Danny felt _good_. He felt safe. He felt like…

You released him quickly, banishing that train of thought before it went any further as you pulled away from him with a nervous smile.

"Let's get this over with," you said with much more bravado than you actually possessed. You probably didn't fool Danny, because he gave your shoulder a brief, gentle squeeze.


	8. Chapter 8

As it turned out, Aston Martins are not the best vehicles for hauling boxes of junk, and Danny decided to use a Rand company vehicle for your mission. Specifically, a large, black, Hyundai SUV. Not as flashy as Danny's sports coupe, but it definitely had an intimidation factor that you could appreciate.

You and Danny met Ward in the parking garage under the building, and Ward got behind the wheel after insisting, "Danny will _kill us all_ before we got near our destination if he drives. Trust me. I speak from experience."

To which Danny had responded with an indignant look, "That was _one_ time, Ward. _One_."

Danny had offered the front passenger seat to you, but you had immediately declined, figuring Ward would want to be as far away from you as possible after your rude behavior that morning. Danny had given you a sympathetic look, but he hadn't argued the point, which is why you ended up in the back seat to enjoy the space all to yourself. Ward hadn't commented on it.

You gave your address to the stoic CEO, who entered it into the GPS built into the front panel of the vehicle, and after that it was mostly silence. Any attempts from Danny's end to start a conversation simply died before it got anywhere. Ward's responses tended to be one or two word answers, and your responses were brief and distant as you stare out the tinted window.

Danny got the hint, seeing how distracted and tense you were, your hands clenched tightly in your lap. The tension in your chest grew with every passing minute and every avenue you crossed.

 _Oh, God. I'm really doing this,_ you thought with rising panic. _Oh God, oh God, oh God._ You clenched your hands tightly in your lap as you tried to keep your breathing slow and steady. It was going to be all right. You had Ward and Danny. They wouldn't let anything happen to you.

You just wished you could convince your racing heart of the facts instead of running every disastrous scenario through your head. Over and over.

And before you knew it, you were there. Outside your apartment building toward the upper side of Manhattan. It didn't look like much on the outside, a tall, brown building, and it wasn't much to look at on the inside either. But real estate was King in New York, and no one on your income-level had any business living there.

Once Ward found a parking spot and turned off the ignition, your heart leapt into your throat.

"You okay?" Danny asked as he looked back at you. When you didn't immediately answer, Ward glanced back at you as well.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you lied through your teeth. You didn't give either of them the opportunity to press further as you opened the car door and exited the vehicle, trying to ignore your trembling fingers as you shut the door. Danny and Ward followed suit, and you walked ahead of them where you could avoid making eye contact. You were fairly certain the fear was written all over your face, and eyes tended to reveal truths you would rather keep hidden.

Your building didn't have a doorman, or much security, so you proceeded straight to the elevators. The lobby was clean but clearly old, betraying the age of the building. The lighting was dim and the green paint on the walls were faded to a pastel color that looked almost sickly.

 _Home, sweet home,_ you thought bitterly as you entered the elevator once the doors had parted, making room for the two men as you crowded into the small space. You tapped the button for your floor, and focused your attention on the keypad on the way up. To say the ascent was filled with tension would be an understatement. You knew what awaited you at the top. Danny and Ward could guess, but the reality of your life was going to be worse than their expectations.

Before you were ready, _way_ before you were ready, you were standing in front of your grungy apartment door. You felt your stomach drop as you remembered you had left your keys inside.

"Do you want me to…?" Danny trailed off, watching you as you remained frozen in front of the door.

"Huh?" you asked numbly, turning to stare at him.

"Do you want me to knock for you? Or… should we call the landlord?"

"No, it's fine. He… he should be home. He works nights." Your voice held a slight tremble, and that more than anything else forced you to raise your fist. You pushed the memory of standing on Danny's doorstep with that same paralysis out of your mind. It wasn't the same.

 _Knock, knock, knock._

Your own knuckles against the wood made you wince. It sounded as loud as gunshots. You waited for several seconds, straining to hear into the apartment, but the door remained firmly closed.

You weren't sure what you were hoping for more – for your boyfriend to answer, or for you to have to try again another time. You glanced over your shoulder and Danny gave you a supportive smile. Ward had a slight frown, his expression solemn and grave. You could relate.

A sound drew your attention back to the door. The sound of the door chain being unlatched. Your heart fluttered unevenly, and you wondered if you would pass out. Wouldn't _that_ just add to the charm of the day.

The door opened, and you knew passing out was the least of your worries.

Josh stood in the doorway, his appearance ruffled from being awakened so abruptly, his eyes red and narrowed. They widened as he first looked at you, then beyond you to Ward and Danny. His confusion would have been comical if not for the fact you knew what would come after.

"(Y/N)?" he asked uncertainly, turning his focus back to you. "What... what's going on? Who are they?" He glanced down at your chest, his face twisting into something unpleasant. "And what the hell are you _wearing?"_

It hurt. It _actually_ hurt. You hadn't really expected him to worry about where you had been. If you had been hurt or needed help. No, instead, he was concerned about why you had come back with two men and was wearing a shirt that clearly wasn't yours.

Well, that was just fine. Because he did have a lot to be concerned about. And his lack of compassion for your disappearance was the last nail in the coffin.

"I'm here for my things, Josh."

He scoffed in disbelief.

"What did you say?"

"Please don't make a big deal out of this. I just want to grab my clothes, pack up my suitcases, and then I'll be gone." The tremble was receding from your voice, and a quiet sort of calm washed over you. This was it. You were really doing it.

"Are you out of your mind?" he responded with a harsh edge to his voice. "If you think you're going anywhere after running off like you did last night, you're even crazier than I thought."

You winced at his words. Not because you hadn't heard them before, but that other people were now hearing them as well. Even if it was your childhood friends, this felt… private. Secret. They were about to see the ugliest parts of your life, and there wasn't anything you could do to stop it.

"Please don't do this," you plead softly, hating the meekness in your voice as you looked up at him. "I don't want to fight. We both knew this was coming. Just… let me get my stuff, and I'll—"

"You'll what?" Josh interrupted in a mocking tone, shifting his hostile gaze over your shoulder. "You'll stay with one of them? Is that what this is? I'm not good enough for you, so you'll whore yourself out to whoever will—"

He never got to finish his sentence. Danny had wordlessly and silently moved around you to clasp his hand around Josh's throat, shoving him roughly against the doorway frame of the apartment. Josh was quite a bit taller than Danny, but your friend seemed to have no difficulty holding him in place.

Danny held his face close as he hissed between his teeth, "If you say one more disparaging comment about (Y/N), I will personally ensure that it will be your last time your tongue will spout such offensive words."

"Danny!" you shouted, startled by his sudden display of violence. You were about to grab him by the shoulder and pull him off, but you were stopped by a firm hand around your upper arm. You looked over your shoulder to find Ward staring right at you. He gently shook his head.

Turning back to the sight of Danny pinning your gasping boyfriend against the doorway, you startled trembling. This isn't what you wanted. You didn't want anyone to get hurt. Even _him._

"Danny…" you now begged, anguish in your voice. _"Please."_

Danny released his hold enough so Josh could gasp for air, but he didn't back off.

"(Y/N) is going to pack her stuff while you sit quietly and obediently out of the way. You will not speak to her. You will not look in her direction. She is not to even cross your mind while we're here. Am I understood?"

"Fuck," Josh cursed harshly, his eyes going wide as Danny tightened his grip. "Yes! _Fuck_ , yes! I understand!"

"Good," Danny stated, releasing his neck and grabbing him by the shoulder. "Now move," he growled, shoving your boyfriend forward into the living room.

Ward released your arm, and when you looked back at him he only watched you with a steady gaze. So you walked forward into your apartment, your rubbery legs somehow carrying you toward the bedroom. Your boyfriend – no, your ex – was sitting on the couch, glaring as you walked past. Danny stood above him, arms crossed, clearly waiting for a reason to rough him up again.

As soon as you entered the small bedroom, you sat down hard on the foot of the bed. Your legs shook like you were a newborn foal, and you were sure they wouldn't support you another minute. You buried your face in your hands, trying to breathe as you struggled not to let your sense of numbness disconnect you from reality. You felt torn between two conflicting sensations – being overwhelmed with fear and panic, and floating away to the point where nothing seemed real.

 _This was a mistake this was a mistake this was a mistake—_

"Hey." You looked up at the sound of Ward's voice, unusually soft. You hadn't realized he had followed you into the bedroom. He shut the bedroom door behind him, cutting you off from the living room; a smart move on his part.

"You okay?" His expression was gentle and understanding, and you didn't quite know what to do with that.

"Not really," you responded, a bubble of nervous laughter trapped in your throat. Were you okay? You were _lightyears_ from okay. You hugged your arms tightly across your chest as you leaned against the tops of your thighs. "This wasn't… how it was supposed to happen. I just. I shouldn't have come. I don't know what I was thinking. I-I can't do this."

You could feel it, the cliff edge of panic approaching at breakneck speed. You needed to run as far and as fast from this place as possible. You couldn't _breathe._ Not here. Not within these walls that held your anger and fear and misery.

"I… I can't…"

You were pulled from your rising panic when Ward did something completely unexpected. He knelt down on the floor, right in front of you, and you had no choice but to make eye contact with him. It worked, temporarily distracting you from your racing thoughts.

"Do you have any suitcases? Duffle bags? Even a backpack?"

"W-what?" you stuttered, voice cracking. His dark eyes were firm and grounding, and you focused on them like a drowner swimming toward a life raft.

"For packing," he said patiently as he moved his hand forward as if to touch you. But he diverted his hand, rubbing at the leg of his pants instead. "You can stay right there, if you want. Just tell me what you want to take and I'll grab it for you. Sound good?"

You stared at him for a moment, unable to comprehend the fact he was suddenly being so kind. That just wasn't Ward's style, as far as you could remember. And yet here he was, literally on his knees in front of you, looking as if he had half a mind to take your hand and squeeze it.

"There's… there's a couple suitcases in the closet. The blue one is mine. There's… a black duffle bag too."

Ward's expression softened, and you could have sworn he was looking at you almost… fondly. But then he was all business as he got to his feet, striding to the closet and opening it to begin rummaging inside. He brought out not only your suitcase and duffle bag, but your ex's black Samsonite suitcase.

"That one's his," you said as Ward picked up the bags and placed them on the bed, zipping them open.

"Well, now it's yours," Ward answered in an amused voice. "Consider it restitution for your troubles." Before you could respond, he added, "Where should we start first?"

"Uh…" you stuttered uncertainly, looking toward the battered chest of drawers. "Clothes, I guess? Everything in the top drawers are mine." You had barely finished speaking before Ward had opened the top two drawers and began pulling out your socks and underwear, apparently not phased in the least by what he was handling. It made heat crawl into your cheeks, and you looked away before your face could turn a further shade of red.

You used the opportunity to survey the room for anything else you wanted to take with you. Truth be told, you didn't have a lot of possessions, especially of sentimental value. Now that you thought about it... all you really had was clothing, a handful of books, and a laptop. That was it. Everything else – the furniture, the kitchen appliances, everything else that made up a typical living space – you had either purchased them together, or your ex had done it with his own money. Earned with blood and paid in shadows.

A shiver traveling down your spine, you got up from the bed and went to the tiny desk where you laptop was sitting. You unplugged it, and packed up it and its charger into the thin laptop carrier. Next, you pulled out the books from the shelf. All of them belonged to you; a mixture of science fiction, fantasy, and classical literature.

There was no way you were leaving Jane Austen and H.G. Wells behind. You had never seen Josh pick up a book in the entire time you were together, and these were yours. They were a part of who you were. He had no right to them.

About to turn back to the bed, your eye caught something toward the back of the shelf. Something blue and furry. You reached into the cubby hole and pulled out a very dusty, worn stuffed animal. You couldn't believe it. You had thought you'd lost it months ago, soon after you moved in. You had asked Josh he had seen it, distraught that you had lost it, and he hadn't understood why you had been so upset.

Carrying the books and the stuffed animal, you retreated back to the bed, placing them into the nearest bag – your old backpack from college. You thought you'd lost that too.

Ward had his back to you, picking up the only other pair of shoes you owned (black slippers), and you stuffed the toy into your backpack before he could see.

"I'll be right back," you told him, taking the backpack and heading to the tiny adjacent bathroom, very aware that Ward's eyes followed after you.

You quickly shoved what few toiletries you had inside. Shampoo, conditioner, soap, your makeup, and your toothbrush and toothpaste. You didn't know what items you would have available to you at whatever cheap motel you could find, so it was better to be safe.

"Is this it?" Ward asked as you returned to the bedroom, his hands propped against his hips. He was studying the two suitcases and the duffle bag on the bed, containing most of your worldly possessions. Your drawers were empty, your books were packed, and your toiletries were tucked away in your backpack. You ran your fingers through your hair, too embarrassed to meet his eye.

"Yeah. That's it."

"Okay then," Ward responded with a little smile you didn't quite understand. He didn't look at you with pity for the pathetically few items you possessed. Instead, he seemed oddly satisfied. "What do you say we get the hell out of here?"

You gave a shaky laugh, nodding in agreement. "Yes, please."

Ward zipped up and lifted the two sets of luggage, and you swung the backpack over your shoulders and picked up the duffle bag. Before opening the bedroom door to reunite with Danny, you paused and turned to look at the bedroom one last time.

It was tiny and sparse, but it had been a place of refuge and safety once. A long time ago. You might even go so far as to say there had been love there, before it had soured into something dark and twisted. The good memories were replaced with fragments of angry noises and ugly fear. It was no longer your home, and hadn't been for longer than you cared to admit.

Ward remained quiet just behind you, allowing you to say your goodbyes to the space that held so much pain and misery. You glanced over your shoulder at him, and he gave you a small, encouraging smile. Returning the expression without speaking, since you didn't have the words to describe how grateful you were to him, you finally turned back to the door and opened it.

Danny hadn't moved from his vigilante watch over your ex, standing above him with his arms crossed. Josh, on the other hand, wasn't paying your friend any attention as he glared daggers at you. You quickly looked away, instead focusing your attention on Danny as he turned and approached you.

"Here, let me," he spoke in a softer voice as he took the heavy duffle bag from your hands. From the look in his eyes, you knew he felt guilt for having lost his composure earlier.

"Thanks, Danny," you responded as you allowed him to take the bag. He gave you an apologetic look before turning back around, leading the way toward the door to the apartment. Josh was still sitting on the couch, fuming with his curled fists on his knees, but you avoided looking in his direction.

"Wait."

Your feet unwillingly came to a stop as you turned to look at your ex. He was still angry, the betrayal clear on his face. But his voice was quieter as he said, "Please, (Y/N). Don't do this."

Seeing movement out of the corner of your eye, you were just in time to stop Danny from advancing on Josh as you put your hand on his chest. He turned to look at you, his expression a mixture of concern and protectiveness.

"Just… let me talk to him. It'll only take a moment," you said, barely above a whisper. "Please."

Danny searched your face. He didn't seem happy about it, but he finally relented. "I'll be right over here if you need me," he said, sparing one last glare toward Josh as he turned and stood by the front door.

You took a deep breath and turned toward your ex, who had remained on the couch as he had watched Danny warily.

"What, Josh?" you asked, trying to make your voice sound firm. Instead, you sounded tired. "What do you want?"

"It doesn't have to be this way, (Y/N). We can work this out. We always do," he said as he spread his hands before him.

"No," you responded softly. "Not this time."

"Look," he sighed, running a hand through his short, messy hair. "I'm sorry if I made you mad. But I don't understand. I've only ever tried to take care of you. What did I do wrong?" he asked, eyes round and pleading, and you actually laughed. It was an ugly, barking sound, but you couldn't stop it.

Was he _actually_ trying to pretend to be the victimized party here? That he had done no wrong and you were clearly being unreasonable?

"What do you think?" you responded with more heat in your voice. "Just… no. Forget it. I'm not having this discussion. I'm sorry it's come to this, and I'm sorry we're ending this way. But I'm _done_."

The hurtful look on his face made you want to slink away with your tail between your legs, but you held your ground. You would _not_ let him make you feel sorry for him.

"But, you can't leave. Please, (Y/N). You're the only good thing in my life. I gave you a place to live, made sure your bills were covered if you couldn't afford them. I did all of that, for you." The growing self-loathing and shame in your chest burned like a flame.

"And you're going to do this to me? After all we've been through?"

You stopped breathing.

 _"We?"_ you repeated, so softly you didn't know if he heard you. "After all… that _we_ have been through?"

The sick guilt twisted in your gut rapidly ignited into rage. Your legs and arms were starting to tremble, and it was reflected in your voice as the anger vibrated in your chest. After all the shit he had put you through, he seriously had no idea why you were leaving? And he was going to play the part of an innocent, naïve, scorned lover?

" _Goodbye_ , Josh."

Turning away from him, you faced Danny as you walked toward the front door. He was watching you with such worry in his eyes that you wondered what kind of expression was on your face.

All thoughts of your friend fled from your mind as you heard Josh snarl, _"Don't you walk out that fucking door."_

A sharp pain radiated from the side of your head, and you couldn't understand why your vision was shifting sideways. Then you hit the floor, landing hard on your elbow, and Josh was standing over you, eyes bright and feral with his hands curled into fists.

Your scalp throbbed from where he had grabbed and thrown you by the hair. You were so shocked you couldn't move, staring up at him helplessly. You didn't know what he would do, the look on his face so hateful you cringed away from it.

And then a fist came flying out of nowhere, crashing into the side of his face and throwing him sideways on top of across the cheap, wooden coffee table in the middle of the living room. It broke under his weight, shattering into planks and splinters as he collapsed on his side.

When you looked back, you expected to find Danny standing above the scene, flush with renewed rage. Instead, it was Ward staring down at your ex with his eyes burning, teeth bared as he growled:

"If you. _Ever._ Touch her again. I will kill you myself."

You could only stare. You had never heard Ward speak that way before, but you believed every word. Josh seemed to be of the same mind because he remained on the ground, panting harshly as Ward glared down at him. A trickle of blood was leaking from the corner of his mouth, and you watched with a sort of vague disbelief.

You heard someone call your name fearfully, and you blinked numbly as Danny knelt down next to you. You flinched as he placed his hand on your shoulder, his eyes wide with fear. "(Y/N)! Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," you responded automatically, your voice sounding far away.

"Come on. Let's get you out of here."

You didn't resist as Danny helped you up, holding you around your shoulders as you rose unsteadily to your feet. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered if you had fallen on your laptop and broken it.

Danny led you toward the front door, passing Ward as he continued to glare at Josh, nostrils slightly flaring. He looked like a provoked animal about to rip someone's throat to shreds. You had never seen him that way before, and it only further convinced you that this wasn't really happening. You were back in Danny's bed, having a horrible nightmare.

Or worse, you were still in your own bed, and all of this had been the wild concoction of a traumatized mind seeking comfort and safety within its own twisted depths.

After picking up your duffle bag again, Danny kept his arm around you after he opened the door and led you through. Ward had finally backed off from you ex. The last glimpse you had of him was his wide eyes following you, the blood drained from his face to leave him ashen and pale.

Ward closed the door (or rather, slammed it shut as if the object had offended him personally), and Danny had his hand on your arm as you as you weaved unsteadily down the building hallway.

"You're okay. We're leaving now. It's almost over," Danny said in a low, soothing voice as Ward impatiently jabbed the elevator button. "You're going to be okay."

You nodded absently, your mind replaying the same scene over and over. You couldn't stop it. It was as if your entire world revolved around the last few minutes. You hadn't existed before them, and you wouldn't exist after them. There was nothing but the pain, the feeling of falling, and then hitting the ground. Lying there helpless, unable to move as Josh towered above you. The person who was supposed to love you was an actual monster.

What did that make you?

You thought Danny had called your name again, but you couldn't answer.

"She's in shock, Danny."

You heard the words, but didn't really process them, staring at the lit button on the elevator pad unblinkingly.

You felt the entirety of Danny's arm go around your shoulders, warm and protective, and you heard his voice in your ear, gently telling you, "You're going to be okay, (Y/N). No one can hurt you. You're safe.

"We're taking you home."


	9. Chapter 9

Danny sat in the backseat with you on the drive back. His arm was no longer around you, but he sat close, his thigh touching yours. It was a small amount of comfort as you stared out the window. It was soothing to watch the cars and people flash by, a mix of colors and fragments of time. Their lives that had nothing to do with yours. Your nightmarish existence was unknown to them. It was small. Insignificant. And oddly reassuring. No one cared what had just happened to you. They had their own problems to deal with. It put things in perspective.

At least, that's what you told yourself. What had happened wasn't a big deal. It was over. The distance between you and your old life was growing with every passing second. Josh couldn't hurt you again, and the sooner you put him out of the mind, the easier things would be.

The throbbing ache on the back of your skull made that difficult to believe.

You knew Danny kept looking at you with a worried expression on his face; you could see his reflection in the tinted window. Ward remained silent, his hands gripping the steering wheel with more force than necessary, his knuckles white with tension. The atmosphere was uncomfortable for everyone, but you didn't know what to do other than to mentally retreat deeper and deeper, trying to let the events of the last half hour slide over and past you like a current of water.

Ward didn't drive the company vehicle back to Rand headquarters. Instead, he drove straight to Danny's building, stopping in the drop-off/loading zone. The security guards at the door began to come forward as the vehicle stopped, but as soon as Ward turned off the car and exited the vehicle, they immediately backed off. They must have recognized him, or maybe saw the company plates. You didn't know. You were just trying your hardest not to _think_.

"Hey," Danny spoke softly, and you pulled your gaze from the dark window to finally look at him. That soft, puppy expression was there, and it was hard to imagine he was the same man who had shoved Josh against the doorframe, fingers digging into his throat as he growled threats of harm.

"I'm fine," you responded before he could even ask, and his open mouth closed with an unhappy frown.

You turned your head as the back hatch opened, and Ward's tall lanky frame filled the opening as he began to pull out the suitcases.

"What are you doing?" you asked, blinking owlishly at him. The question caused him to draw an eyebrow upward.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"You should leave them in the car," you responded dully as he looked at you more closely. "I'm not staying long."

"What?" Danny looked even unhappier now, and slightly confused, and you clarified:

"I have my phone. And my wallet." Danny continued to stare at you, uncomprehending, and you sighed. "I'm going to see if there are any vacancies at the edge of the city. I can afford a week, maybe more, if it's a cheap hotel. If not, I can find something in Newark—"

Ward made an amused sort of noise, practically a snort, and lifted the two suitcases and pulled them from the vehicle.

"Ward!" you called, annoyance finally bringing some life back into your voice as he walked away, carrying the luggage to the front entrance of Danny's building.

You turned to Danny, but any hopes of him backing you up vanished as you saw the earnest look in his eyes.

"(Y/N), I can't in good conscience allow you to waste what little money you have when I have more than enough room. You can stay as long or as little as you like," he interjected when you opened your mouth to protest. "You can leave whenever you want, and I won't stop you. But you are always welcome here. You know that, right?"

"I… I know," you responded dully, your shoulders drooping with guilt and exhaustion.

"So… please, stay? Until you get back on your feet, at least. Please?"

You searched his face, trying to find the words that would allow you to free your friends of the burden that was your presence. But Danny's soulful blue eyes made the task damn-near impossible.

"Danny… I… I can't ask this of you…"

"I know," he said with a soft tone and an even softer smile. "That's why I'm offering. You don't have to ask. Just… please. Say yes?"

You observed his bright blue eyes, torn between the urge to run far away, and the desire to stay and not have to suffer. Alone.

You chose the selfish option.

"Okay," you relented slowly, feeling the air and the resistance go out of you. You expected a bright, happy-go-lucky from Danny at your concession. Instead, there was a touch of sadness to his smile as he responded.

"You're going to be okay, (Y/N)." He took your hand, squeezing it to reassure you. All it did was cause an echo of pain in your chest. "All storms, no matter how terrible, have to end at some point. They just have to be weathered before the sunlight can reach us."

"Thanks, Danny," you responded with your voice barely above a whisper, wondering what you had done to deserve such kindness. Danny gave you another reassuring smile, a squeeze of your hands, before letting go.

* * *

Transporting your stuff to Danny's apartment had only taken one trip; Danny with the duffle bag and you with your backpack. Ward had already put the suitcases next to the bed, apparently confident Danny would be able to convince you to stay. Maybe he knew you better than you thought. Or maybe he just understood the uncanny powers of persuasion that Danny's puppy-dog look could have. Most likely the latter.

When Danny had asked what you wanted for lunch, you had merely shaken your head and avoided eye contact with either of them as you stated, "I'm actually pretty tired. Do you mind if I rest for a while?"

Danny and Ward had exchanged a quick glance, something you noticed they did quite often, and Danny made his best attempt at a carefree smile as he turned back to you and said, "Of course not. Get some sleep."

He didn't hide his feelings very well. Ward was much better at that, his jaw set into a neutral position as his expression remained blank. But you knew neither of them were happy with your purposeful intention of avoiding them.

Lunch involved sitting down. Together. Where no doubt, Danny with his best intentions would try to talk about what happened. You knew they only wanted to help; to ease the burden you carried on your shoulders, hidden to the world but now revealed to your friends in startling clarity.

And you were not ready to have that discussion. Not yet, anyway.

"Thank you," you responded with a flimsy smile, once again avoiding eye contact as you walked past Ward to the bedroom. He didn't try to stop you, and some of the pressure that had been building in your chest eased up as you gently shut the door behind you.

You knew Danny had meant what he said, that you could stay as long as you wanted. But you couldn't take advantage of him – not after he had done so much to help you already. So you got out your phone in preparation to search for the nearest cheap hotel you could find but then realized your cell signal was dead. Furrowing your brows, you opened up the Wi-Fi channels to see what was available.

There was a long list of them available from nearby routers, but one made the corner of your lip twitch. A channel named "Tranquility" was near the top of the list, and somehow, you knew that was Danny's.

Phone in hand, you turned and opened the door, preparing to find Danny to ask him for the password. You stopped in the hallway when you heard a voice. Ward's, speaking in a hushed, serious tone.

"Danny, don't."

"But I'm _worried_ about her."

"She will come out when she's ready. Not a second sooner."

"But…" You could hear Danny make a distraught noise. "What if she needs us with her? Especially after what that piece of shit scumbag just did?"

You were startled by Danny's venomous tone. You knew he was concerned for your situation, but did he feel _that_ strongly about it?

Another noise, this time Ward sighing through his nose. It was amazing how quickly you were beginning to notice Danny's and Ward's quirks and habits, and could interpret what they meant.

"What she needs right now, is some space." Danny sounded like he was going to protest, but Ward interrupted him. "She just had her dignity robbed from her. Right in front of us. You don't think she might want a little time to herself after that?"

"All the more reason why we should be in there, reassuring her, and—"

"You're not _listening_ , Danny," Ward responded with frustration bleeding into his voice. "How do you think I would have reacted if you had walked in during one of the many times Harold beat me? Hmm?"

Your breath caught in your throat, and you covered your mouth to keep the noise from escaping. Ward's dad… had done _what_ to him?

"Do you think I would have welcomed your intervention with open arms? Or would I have been horrified that another person had just… witnessed my shame?" Ward's voice slightly cracked at the end, causing you physical pain in your chest.

"Ward… that wasn't your fault…"

"I'll tell you how I would have reacted, Danny," Ward continued, ignoring Danny's attempt at comfort. "Like you were a hostile intruder, shining a light the deepest, darkest corners of my life. I wouldn't have been grateful. I would have been _furious._ I might even have hated you."

There was a tense silence that lasted several seconds, before Danny quietly asked, "Does she? Hate me?"

Ward scoffed and in a tired voice stated, "No, Danny. She doesn't hate you. I said that's what _I_ would have done, and I'm a goddamn asshole. She… (Y/N) is a much better person than I am." Ward paused for a moment, and added softly, "If she is reserving hatred for anyone in this situation, it's for herself. Not you. Not me. Not even that literal piece of human garbage. She's going to blame herself for this. I can promise you that."

You couldn't listen anymore. Not a moment longer. Judging by the way your hands were shaking, you had heard too much already. So you turned around, walked back into Danny's bedroom, and quietly closed the door behind you.

Leaning against its hard surface, you squeezed your eyes tightly shut. There was a lump in your throat, and your eyes started to burn, but you refused to let any tears escape. Instead, you retreated to Danny's King-sized bed, crawled beneath the giant comforter, and curled into a ball as you shut out the rest of the world.


	10. Chapter 10

You opened your eyes and immediately froze. It took a few harrowing seconds for your eyes to adjust until you recognized the corners and shapes of Danny's bedroom. You finally released your death-grip on the comforter.

 _It was just a dream. It wasn't real. I'm safe._

It had been jumbled and confusing, but you were fairly sure your ex had been involved, and you were trapped. Unable to escape, even though the door to your old apartment was wide open. A pressure gripped your neck tightly, and you were paralyzed, unable to save yourself.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest. Not quickly, but slow and hard, and the tips of your fingers and toes tingled from sudden blood flood.

Shaking off the foul nightmare, you climbed out of the bed and stumbled across the darkened room, wondering what time it was. Picking your phone up from the nightstand, you realized it was half past seven.

 _"Shit,"_ you hissed as you put the phone back into your pants pocket. How long had you been asleep? Danny was probably pacing a trench into his lush, expensive carpet at your departure while Ward rolled his eyes at him.

 _Ward is worried too,_ you told yourself with a furrowed brow. _Even if he hides it well, he wouldn't bother unless he cared. Right?_

The question was left unanswered as you opened the bedroom door and walked down the hallway into the living room, expecting to find one or both of them lounging as they had the night previously. Instead, you were met with a silent apartment. Lonely with bright lights filling the empty spaces.

Dejection filled your chest, and you immediately tried to shake it off. Danny and Ward weren't here at your beck-and-call; they had lives of their own, and you were a guest in Danny's home. A poor guest at that, judging by the fact you had just ditched them for the last several hours to nap away your feelings.

Rubbing your arms to ward off the feeling of isolation and loneliness, you walked into the kitchen to find it was also empty. _Where are they?_ The question hung over your head as you opened the cupboards one by one, eventually finding the glasses you sought. You weren't quite brave enough to raid Danny's fridge and pantry for food, but you could at least draw yourself a glass of water.

After you filled the cup with water from the sink, you stared at the wall above the facet. Instead of a window, there was a small painting in a dark frame. It was simple but beautiful; elegant black ink was etched across the thick paper, depicting a mountain range topped with snow. A solitary brown hawk floated above its peaks, and it only served to make you feel even more separate from the rest of the world. As if you were the only person left on Earth.

You didn't know how long you remained that way, ensorcelled by the painting with its haunting lines and mesmerizing grace, but you didn't sense the presence behind you until it spoke.

"You're awake."

 _"Shit!"_

You cursed loudly as the cup you were holding slipped from your startled grasp, banging noisily in the sink.

At least it didn't break. Thank God for that.

You spun around, heart pounding once more even though you recognized the voice and knew its owner wouldn't harm you. Ward stood in the kitchen doorway, and… you couldn't stop staring.

Ward had changed into something far more casual, a dark blue shirt with black jeans and boots. His hair had been rinsed of whatever product he used to slick it against his scalp, and now it hung around the edges of his temples in a loose frame.

There was no way you could avoid noticing the appealing way his shirt clung tightly to his torso and arms (since when the hell did Ward have _muscles?_ ), nor the way his jeans fit snugly against his slim hips and long, lanky legs.

"Sorry," he said in a low voice, glancing from the sink to your face, and you prayed nothing of your thoughts had escaped into your expression. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"I… I didn't know anyone was here," you responded, mentally patting yourself on the back for your words not coming out in a squeak. "I just woke up," you added, as if that weren't completely goddamn obvious and your mind wasn't spinning in its tracks as you continued to stare at your friend as if you had never seen him before.

"I can tell," he said with the barest hint of a smile, eyes flicking upward to the mess that was your hair. You could feel the heat creep into your cheeks, embarrassed by how ruffled you appeared compared to this veritable Adonis in front of you.

"Sleep well?"

"Uh…" Holy _hell_ , when had Ward gotten so damn attractive? Why did the ability to form words suddenly escape you? "Yeah, I guess. Uh. Where's Danny?" You were desperate for a change of subject, but also wondered where he'd gone and… Why was Ward still there anyway? Didn't he have a home to return to? He was obviously wearing different clothing and he looked like he'd washed up, so _why_ was he still in Danny's apartment?

"Out," he said with a half-hearted shrug, but he looked away from you as he did. "You know how he is."

Actually, you didn't have a clue how Danny behaved normally, so you just kind of stared at Ward until he cleared his throat and pulled his phone from his pocket.

"You're probably starving. There's a Thai food place around the corner. I'll order us some food. If you want," he added, looking up from his phone with a seriousness that would have been sort of endearing if you weren't still reeling over the fact that he looked like some kind of Tommy Hilfiger model.

"I don't want to be a bother," you responded automatically, and Ward gave an amused snort.

"You're not." He went back to his phone, sliding his thumb across the screen as he casually added," If anyone is a burden and an annoyance to Danny, it would be me. Do you have any food allergies?"

"Huh? Oh. No." You blinked from the abrupt change of subject and wondered what he meant about bothering Danny. But Ward didn't say anything further, so you slowly walked forward, stopping about halfway across the kitchen as you leaned against the island counter.

Ward finally looked up from his phone, said, "Done. Food should be here in a bit," before blinking as he saw you had somewhat closed the distance. He was even more astonishing up close, and you were amazed that he somehow hid this casually, yet irresistibly alluring aura under the starched, refined business exterior.

"I wanted to apologize for this morning," you blurted out before you lost your courage, your left hand gripping the edge of the counter as if for balance. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. It was dick move on my part, especially when you were just trying to help. You and Danny have been nothing but wonderful to me, and I'm… I'm really sorry."

Ward didn't respond immediately to your awkward, heartfelt apology, though his forehead creased as he studied your face carefully.

"I shouldn't have spoken down to you like a child," he finally said, his expression relaxing in a way that made him look younger and less beaten down by the world. Even his dark eyes didn't seem as hard as they usually did. "It's not what you deserved. You're an adult, and I should have treated you as such. I… also apologize."

"Thank you," you replied with a small smile, and for just a moment you had the insane urge to move forward and wrap your arms around his chest. If he had been Danny, you probably would have, as he seemed receptive to casual physical contact. But in that moment, all you could think about was Ward clinically describing to Danny how his father beat him. And how you had rushed at him the night before. You had no idea how Ward felt about being touched, and from what little you had observed there was a significant chance it would only make him uncomfortable.

So instead of wrapping your arms around him like you _really_ wanted, you smiled up at him in a way you hoped was composed as you asked, "So. What should we do until the food gets here?"

"Um." Ward seemed to flounder at the question, his jaw working but no words came out, and you took brief pleasure in not being the only one to have your tied tongued.

"I wonder if Danny has any movies," you commented with a perfectly innocent tone, noticing that Ward turned to continue watching as you walked past him into the living room. "I hope so. Poor guy has a lot of catching up to do when it comes to pop culture references."

Ward followed you to the far side of the living room where the wall-mounted flat screen was located, but didn't speak as you kneeled in front of Danny's collection of DVDs.

"I can't believe he bought actual physical copies," you murmured as you opened the cabinet below the screen to begin pulling them out, examining their covers before placing them back. _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl._ Danny seemed to have collected the biggest hits of the early and mid-2000's.

Just after he and his family went missing, you realized with a start. The thought made a stone drop into the pit of your stomach. Danny had missed so much, the rest of his childhood stolen from him. It really did feel as if Danny had come back from the dead, and an echo of the grief you had experienced over his disappearance rang in your chest.

"You think that's bad," Ward responded wryly, snapping your attention back as you rapidly blinked. "I had to stop from buying an old VHS after he wouldn't believe me that they don't make cassettes anymore." You looked over your shoulder to find him standing next to the couch in front of the TV, standing with his arms folded over his chest. You had to look back to the collection of films to keep from letting your eyes roam over his body, like some kind of degenerate pervert.

"I bet he was pretty impressed with how advanced cell phones are now. A lot different from the flip phones we used to have," you commented as you finished going through the sparse library. You found the one you wanted, and pulled it out with a barely suppressed grin. _Perfect._

Ward gave an amused snort and said, "Danny thinks they're ridiculous. Said a phone was for making calls, and if he wanted to use the Internet he would just get on a computer. He's a regular Luddite, our Danny." You felt an unexpected flush of warmth from hearing Ward say those words. _Our_ Danny. You didn't know why. What you did know was, you wouldn't be able to hide the blush in your cheeks now.

"Find one?" Ward asked when you didn't speak, silent and cross-legged on the ground.

"I did." You stood up, praying the blush wasn't as obvious as it felt, and walked to Ward with your heart pounding faster than normal. You held the DVD case up to him, trying to keep a straight face and failing. Ward squinted at the title.

"Is that the one with the talking fish?"

Your smile faded.

"Are… are you serious?"

Ward rolled his eyes and said, "Do I look like a ten year-old child to you?"

You made quite the offended noise as you pulled the case back, hugging it against your chest.

" _Finding Nemo_ is a classic! It's for people of all ages!" You peered at him when he didn't respond, and you realized he was actually serious. "You've really never seen it?"

"I have better uses of my time," Ward responded, fixing you with a partial glare that you found oddly exciting rather than intimidating. What was _wrong_ with you?

"Well, not tonight you don't."

Ward blinked and opened his mouth to object as you turned back to the DVD cabinet. The DVD player was sitting on a shelf next to the collection of films, and you supposed Ward had been unable to sway Danny into buying a Blu-ray player and was forced to settle on the older DVD player. The thought made you smile even wider as you placed the disc into the tray after it popped out.

"We are _not_ watching a movie about cartoon fishes."

"They're high-quality, animated, CGI fishes," you corrected him patiently, quite enjoying the exasperation in his voice.

"I don't care if they're magical, real-life guppies who can talk out of their asses—"

 _Ding-ding._

"Door," you responded while looking over your shoulder at him, grinning widely. He gave a grand rolling of the eyes before turning away, striding toward the front of the apartment on legs that were so long they should have been outlawed.

"Classy, (Y/N). Real classy," you grumbled under your breath as you got to your feet, moved over to the couch and plopped down on it. You really had to get your lust under control. It was weird, and distasteful, and very, very inappropriate.

Unfortunately, it was also helpful. You realized you hadn't thought about the _incident_ since you had woken up from your nap and Ward had appeared. He had successfully managed to take your mind off of things without even consciously trying. It made a slow, warm sensation spread across your chest, and you found yourself grinning like some kind of blissful idiot.

"Food's here," Ward announced as he placed the bag of take-out on the coffee table in front of the TV.

"Shouldn't we wait for Danny?" you asked, sitting up as Ward lifted out two white take-out containers and set them on the glass surface.

"He can eat his portion when he gets back." Ward pulled the utensils from the bag next, two sets of plastic forks.

"And when will that be?" you asked curiously.

"Haven't a clue. He didn't say."

Your brows furrowed from the cavalier statement, but Ward didn't seem to be worried, so that was probably a sign you shouldn't call in an APB on Danny just yet.

Still, Ward didn't have to be so obtuse about it. As petty revenge, you reached over and grabbed the paper-wrapped chopsticks he had just pulled out of the bag. It earned you a glowering look which you ignored as you ripped the paper, pulled out the chopsticks, and split them apart. All with a little, cheeky grin on your face.

"Really? You know how to eat with chopsticks?" he asked in a disbelieving tone and a quirk of his eyebrows.

"Uh-huh," you responded impishly, glancing up to savor the look on his face. It was an expression cause somewhere between amusement and annoyance.

"So, what did you order for us?" You pulled a box toward you and opened it to see thick noodles, bright carrots, green onions, and green beans. And on closer inspection, what you thought were chunks of meat was actually something else. "Is that… tofu?"

"It's Danny's favorite place. All vegetarian. I can't get him to order from anywhere else," Ward added, almost seeming sheepish at the confession. It made you give a small laugh, which felt _really_ good after everything that had happened. The idea of Danny being stubborn and obstinate about everything while an exasperated Ward tried to reason with him was probably one of the most enjoyable mental images you'd had in a while.

"You two sound close. Closer than I remember, anyway," you asked in a smooth tone, glancing sideways at him. Ward didn't seem to buy your nonchalance as he peered back at you carefully. His own box of noodles was opened in front of him, but he seemed much more intent on you than the food. It made you want to squirm, his attention making it feel like there was a spotlight on you in a way it hadn't before.

"I suppose. We do run a company together."

"That's not exactly what I meant."

"Okay. What did you mean, then?" You could tell he was trying to keep the impatience out of his voice, but he definitely wasn't the sort of person to beat around the bush.

You inwardly winced at broaching the subject, but it had to happen eventually.

"I mean, are you two, like… together?"

Ward stared at you blankly. Apparently, you would have to clarify.

"You know, as in… are you two a couple?"

Ward blinked once. And then burst into laughter so sudden it actually startled you. He threw back his head and guffawed, and it was so unexpected you nearly dropped your chopsticks too.

 _"Are… are we…"_

Ward could barely speak, he was laughing so hard, and all you could do was stare in disbelief. You had _never_ heard him laugh like that before. It was a deep, throaty sound, and totally unlike the stiff, serious man you knew. You didn't know whether to be impressed or deeply disturbed.

Ward was wiping away the tears from his eyes now, still chuckling but managing to get his laughter under control.

"Wow… okay… Not what I expected, but okay…" he responded after a moment. You continued to stare at him in muted shock, and he cleared his throat as he tried (and failed) to wipe the grin off his face.

"No. Danny and I aren't together. I can barely be around the guy for more than five minutes without wanting to strangle him with his own girly tie." Ward gave another chuckle, pulling apart his own set of chopsticks as he shook his head. "God, can you imagine if we were dating? Rand would need a new CEO or two after one of us murdered the other in a homicidal rage. Plus, the office probably would have exploded. Again."

That made you blink, remembering. The top floor of Danny and Ward's office building had had a gas leak a few weeks ago, and basically leveled the penthouse floor in the middle of the night. When you had heard the news, you'd called Danny immediately. It had come as a staggering relief that Danny and Ward hadn't been there when it happened.

You also remembered how Josh had asked you who you'd been talking to on the phone, his tone even and relaxed but you could hear the anger on the edges.

You violently shoved the memory as you pulled your focus back to Ward. The smile was slowly fading from his face, and you fervently hoped nothing had been revealed in your expression.

"Why do you ask?" He was definitely looking at you more closely now, and you fumbled awkwardly with your words as you tried to compose yourself.

"Oh. Uh. Just curious." Ward didn't seem to buy that for a second, and the intensity of his stare forced you to look away. You picked up the remote from the coffee table, hoping to start the movie and change the subject of Ward's life (which was none of your damn business anyway).

"I know I'm not the easiest person to open up to," he responded slowly, inevitably forcing your gaze back to him. "But you can speak your mind here. No one will judge you. Certainly not me." He shrugged, almost self-conscious as he focused down at the box in his hands, poking at his contents with his own chopsticks. "Just a thought."

"Thank you, Ward," you responded, and you meant it. It had been a long time since you could be honest about your thoughts and emotions. About anything, really. Josh hadn't exactly been big on communication, especially towards the end.

"No need to thank me, just stating the obvious," he said with a shrug you could have sworn was embarrassed, and it made you smile. It was startling how comfortable you felt in Danny's apartment, sitting and chatting with Ward. Much more at-ease than you had been in your own home.

Just the thought of your ex sent an unpleasant shiver up your spine, and you turned your focus back to the television.


	11. Chapter 11

"Danny's really missing out," you said as you navigated the DVD menu to hit Play. Ward snorted.

"I think he'll survive the devastation."

Ward's dry, sarcastic tone, something that had frayed on your nerves at one point, now made you want to grin. It was a strange thing. And as the movie began to play, you paid more attention to your confused feelings than the brightly colored marine life on screen. Even as you used the chopsticks (quite expertly, in your opinion) to eat, you still marveled at the life-changing experience of hearing Ward laugh with reckless abandon. How could you take his stoic, tough-guy façade seriously after knowing he was capable of such boisterous mirth?

In that moment, you made the ridiculous oath to yourself to make it your mission to get Ward to laugh like that again. If anything, just to make sure you hadn't imagined it the first time around.

After you had finished your boxed dinner (you couldn't lie, Danny had good taste in food and tea), you glanced sideways at Ward. He had already finished up, and though he would probably never admit it, he seemed caught in the throes of the plotline. So much so that you could stare at him without the risk of getting caught.

Who was this man, you wondered as you examined his profile. So much calmer and more composed than the insecure, sometimes cruel boy you had known. He clearly had his act together, so it made you wonder how he was still single. He was thirty years-old, wealthier than the Devil, co-CEO of a successful Fortune 500 company. You itched to know more about him, given that he seemed to be a completely different person now.

Then a singular, startling thought made your stomach twist. What if he _wasn't_ single? Just because he didn't mention a partner when you asked if he and Danny were together didn't mean he was without one.

Turning back to the movie, you decided it didn't matter. His private life was his own, and it didn't matter if he was with someone or not. He was your friend again, and that should be enough.

Around the time Nemo was being placed into the oppressive fish tank in the dentist's office, you curled your legs under you and faced sideways toward the TV, trying to get more comfortable. You couldn't believe you were tired again after your recent depression-nap, but soon you were leaning your head against the back of the couch and struggling to keep your eyes open.

You thought Ward was too engrossed with the movie to notice, but after a few minutes he spoke.

"Feeling tired?"

"Just a little bit," you responded, glancing towards him with a sheepish smile.

"You've had a… trying day," Ward responded with a touch of awkwardness that you found very endearing.

"I suppose," you said casually, hoping he would understand you didn't want to discuss what had happened earlier. He remained quiet for another minute before saying:

"You can lie down if you want. More than enough room."

"And put my stinky feet in your face? I think I'll spare you the torture," you quipped while rolling your eyes at him.

Ward shrugged and said, "It's up to you."

Not the answer you were hoping for, but not exactly unreasonable. What did you expect he would say? Sure, just put your head on my lap like we're in some kind of cheesy, romance novel?

But after a few minutes of you almost nodding off, Ward sighed.

"Come here."

"Hmm?" you responded, looking up at him as you blinked owlishly, trying to remember what was happening in the movie.

"You're going to fall over. Just… come here."

Peering at him suspiciously, you scooted closer to him and wondered what he was planning. You were now only a foot away, instead of the previous three feet, and it filled you with a nervousness that you didn't quite understand.

Ward sighed again.

"I'm not going to bite," he responded with a touch of impatience, but his dark eyes were almost soft as he spoke. So you scooched closer until there was only a few inches between you, trying not to vibrate out of your skin at the close proximity.

"Use my shoulder as a pillow," Ward suggested very matter-of-factly, as if it was the most reasonable request in the world.

"I'm sorry?"

That caused a roll of his eyes and he said, "Or don't. But since you seem intent on watching this child's movie, rather than go to sleep like a rational human being, I thought… maybe it would be more comfortable for you."

You stared at him, fully convinced this was some kind of strange joke.

"You… are you sure?" you asked when he continued to stare back at you, his expression comically serious.

"I wouldn't have made the offer if I was just going to retract it," Ward responded, and it was that rumbly voice that weakened your resolve to be a good, decent friend by keeping your distance – physical and otherwise.

"Okay. Thanks," you replied with all the grace of a blundering badger. It wasn't _entirely_ your fault. It was hard to be witty and clever when your unreasonably attractive friend had just offered his shoulder for your usage.

Trying to hide the blush crawling up your cheeks more than anything else, you dipped your head down and placed your cheekbone against the point of his shoulder. It… actually wasn't as boney as you expected, instead cushioned by a sheath of muscles. Very warm, taut muscles.

 _Well, I'm definitely awake now,_ you thought with a blush of shame. There was no denying how warm you were, from head to toe; not helped by the fact Ward seemed to radiate heat. Or maybe that was you just being more desperate for physical contact than you realized. You hadn't allowed Josh to, well… touch you for weeks now, and you'd had more physical affection in the last 24 hours than you had in the last two months.

 _God, I am so pathetic,_ you scolded yourself, but it didn't change the fact that this tiny gesture from Ward made you believe, at least for a little while, that perhaps you weren't the piece of garbage you thought you were. Maybe you were worthy of having friends, and being loved, and having good things happen to you.

But that cruel little voice in the back of your head said otherwise, and it was guilt that made you want to pull away from him. But… Ward was so comfortable. And safe. Your arm was pressed against his, despite you trying to keep it tucked against your side, and it felt like a sort of bliss you didn't deserve in the least.

The shame made your eyes burn and a lump form in your throat, but you remained where you were. You were too weak to resist. Too selfish to do the right thing, which would get as far away from Ward and Danny as possible.

"You're tensing up."

Ward's baritone voice pulled you out of your own head, as it so often seemed to do. You didn't respond though; you had no idea what to say. He was right.

"How can you tell?" you asked eventually, casually, as if your own distress didn't really bother you.

"You're not putting the full weight of your head down. And your arm sometimes trembles."

Oh, hell. You hadn't even realized what you were doing, but it was obvious now as you noticed the slight ache in your neck from holding up your head.

You gave a heavy sigh and fully sat up, missing the contact but knowing it was for the best. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me." You didn't dare look at him; your faces would have been much too close together, and you didn't need the hassle of a heart attack on top of everything else.

"Take a deep breath. Imagine relaxing your muscles, one by one," he said in a voice so low it did make you shiver this time. "Starting with your toes and traveling upwards."

You did glance at him this time, immediately regretting it as the intensity of his stare from so close. From a distance, you had always thought his eyes were dark, sometimes an indescribable color when they were lighter. But now you could see they were a striking hazel, an earthy brown surrounded by lush green. A desert oasis.

 _Oh, boy, I've definitely lost it. I'm waxing poetic about the color of Ward's eyes._

If he minded you staring, he didn't show it, staring back at you with something that was dangerously close to concern.

Then you turned away from him and closed your eyes.

"Sounds like you speak from experience," you said, focusing on your breathing and the tautness of your muscles, rather than dwell on the sudden and desperate need to be touching him again. The only response you received was the soft snort he made when he was amused by something.

After a full minute of practicing relaxing your muscles, rather unsuccessfully, Ward said in a quiet voice, "Nothing is wrong with you. You just need a little time."

"I don't want to talk about it," you immediately snapped back, all progress you had made relaxing your limbs obliterated as your jaw tightened and your hands clenched in your lap.

"I'm not asking you to," Ward responded with gentleness despite your sharp tone, and you opened your eyes with a defeated slump of your shoulders. The movie was still playing, but neither of you paid it any attention. "I just… want you to understand, that what you're feeling? It's normal. And it will go away."

You couldn't bear to look at him as you leaned forward, bracing your elbows against your legs as you rubbed at your face tiredly. You knew he meant well, that he only wanted to help. But you didn't want to think about it, or talk about it, or acknowledge _anything_ that had happened over the past few months.

All you wanted to do was retreat back into Danny's bed and sleep away the rest of your life.

You didn't realize the audio from the movie had stopped until you felt a light, warm pressure on your back. Your shoulders tensed involuntarily as you waited for… what, you didn't know.

But he didn't back away from your sudden flinching. Instead, the pressure increased as Ward began to slowly stroke your back, slowly and hesitantly at first, then with more warmth and comfort as his palm slide from one shoulder to the other and across your shoulder blades.

Having no idea what to do or what to say, you remained silent and absolutely still. Your heart was racing, but not with excitement. You were _afraid_. And you didn't know why.

"It's going to be all right." Ward's voice was low and gravely, and combined with the warmth of his long fingers and palm running across your back, you began to slowly loosen your muscles, one by one. "It doesn't feel that way right now, but you're through the worst of it. It's over. No matter how much your brain will lie, and it _will_ lie, and tell you you're still stuck back there, you're not. You're here." He gave a comforting squeeze of your opposite shoulder. "And you're never going back."

The sudden lump in your throat was unexpected, and completely out of your control, as were the rest of your emotions as your eyes began to burn and a pressure began to build in your chest.

No, no! You're not going to cry. Not here. Not in front of Ward. Don't you _dare_ cry—

But it was too late. A choked sob escaped your throat as you covered your face, attempting to hold back the tide of emotions threatening to crash down on you. Just a warm touch and a few kind words, and Ward had breached something inside you that couldn't be shut away again. Before you knew it, your sob turned into full-blown bawling.

But then Ward was right there, pulling you sideways into his chest, petting your head and giving you the opportunity to bury your face into his shoulder, which you definitely did. You couldn't resist the soothing half-embrace, and you didn't want to. As you had the night previously, you surrendered to suppressed pain and grief while Ward held you tightly. And same as the night before, he let you cry against him without saying a word.

Eventually, your sobs tapered off and it felt as if a great pressure had been physically released from your body.

"I'm… I'm s-sorry," you apologized in a shaky voice. "I'm a goddamn… goddamn mess."

Ward gave a small chuckle, a low rumbling sound that vibrated his chest.

"Trust me, you're not. Not to me." You felt your heart skip a beat, traitorous mind clearly misinterpreting what he meant. His next words confirmed that your confused head was jumping to conclusions. "You should have seen Danny when he first showed up back in New York. Now _he_ was a human disaster. I had him immediately thrown out of the office."

"You didn't," you responded, somehow about to smile even though the tears were still wet on your cheeks.

"I absolutely did. I thought he was a dangerous, crazy person, showing up in bare feet, matted hair, and filthy rags, claiming to be Danny Rand. Ranting about wanting to see my dead father. I even…" Ward stopped talking then, and you pulled back a little so you could look up at him. The expression on his face was very far away, and not entirely happy.

"You even… what?" you asked. "Ward?"

He blinked and looked back at you. Your faces were so close, a few scant inches apart, and Ward didn't seem to know what to do. He was at a loss for words, until he finally cleared his throat and looked away from you.

"I had him committed to a psychiatric hospital."

Now it was your turn to gape at him.

"I know it was cruel, but at the time I really thought it was the best recourse. He wouldn't leave Joy alone, and had even broken into her house. Though I suppose, it actually was his house the entire time, but we didn't know… we couldn't _know_ he was really Danny. Danny was dead, and had been for years. We didn't know…"

"Oh, Ward…" You were intimately familiar with the pain in his voice, the grief that had followed you for so long after Danny's disappearance. "It wasn't your fault. And Danny forgave you, I'm sure."

"Danny is a very forgiving person," Ward spoke with bitterness on his tongue. "I haven't asked for it, but I know if I did, he would grant it to me. And I don't feel Joy and I deserve that yet."

Ward hadn't removed his arms from around your shoulders yet, so you moved your head closer and rested your cheek back on his shoulder. It was the only way you knew how to comfort him, by returning his embrace.

You felt more than you heard Ward's breath hitch, and he said, "I'm sorry. I made this all about me and my own bullshit. You don't need to hear any of this."

"But I'm glad you told me," you responded warmly. "It seems like you needed to get it off your chest. Plus, I… I'm not ready to talk yet. I'd much rather listen to you talk. It's… nice."

Ward chuckled, a pleasant sound that rumbled through his chest.

"I have been told I enjoy the sound of my own voice, so you're in good company then."

You'd always been a little skeptical of the idea that crying was therapeutic, but you fully believed it in that moment. Of course, you knew a big part of that were the well-muscled arms still around your shoulders. Unlike the night before, you could feel them in much more detail now.

And unlike the night before, you and Ward were completely alone. You had the same feelings of security and safety as earlier, but this felt so much more intimate without Danny there. You were practically cuddling on the couch with him, and while you couldn't really understand how you had gotten there, you definitely weren't complaining.

"Still interested in finishing this… movie?" Ward asked with an eye roll you could hear rather than see.

"Damn right. You're not getting off the hook that easy."

Ward gave an over-played, dramatic sigh and loosened his hold around you, but still kept one arm around your shoulder as you leaned against him. It made your heart surge with something close to happiness.

"Protest all you want, you have to admit it's cute. At least a little bit."

"I admit nothing," he responded resolutely as he resumed the film with a click of the remote.

"I cannot believe you're drawing a line in the sand at _Finding Nemo_."

"Have to take a stand somewhere," he said with a smirk in his voice, and you were _so_ tempted to poke him in the ribs but decided instead to snuggle closer against his side. He squeezed your shoulder in response.

You paid very little attention to the rest of the movie. You knew Ward was offering comfort as nothing more than a friend, but as you listened to the sound of his steady breathing, and reveled in the safe warmth of his arms and torso, it was way too easy to pretend otherwise.

You were interrupted from your reverie by a loud noise – the front door opening and slamming shut.

Ward's arm jerked from around you as he sat up, the look on his face pensive and tense.

"Stay here."

You blinked in confusion as you watched him exit the room. That _had_ to be Danny coming home, so why did Ward look as if bad news was coming?

Standing up from the couch (come on, Ward, did you really think I would stay put?), you made your way to the open doorframe, facing your ear toward the opening to see if you could overhear anything. You heard snippets of whispered conversation, rushed and tense, and though the words were obscure you knew it was Danny and Ward talking.

As you had earlier that day, you tried to sneak closer to hear what they were saying, but unlike before, they were not speaking loudly enough for you to hear.

 _Oh, this is ridiculous,_ you scolded yourself. Why am I eavesdropping? _They're my friends. They'll tell me what's going on if I ask._

Feeling ashamed that you had tried to listen in on their conversation for a second time, you strode out from the hallway and into the kitchen. Ward had his arms crossed as he faced Danny, who was standing in front of the sink with his hands gripping the counter.

They both immediately stopped talking and turned to stare at you; Danny with a wide-eyed expression of concern, and Ward with a tight-lipped frown of disapproval. And you knew in that way that was obvious but hard to pinpoint, that they had just been talking about you.

"Hey, Danny," you said, hoping your voice sounded just the right degree of casual. "Where have you been?"

"Working late. Sorry," Danny responded with a sheepish grin. You raised an eyebrow as you took in his appearance; black pants, black shoes, and a black hoodie that was still pulled up over his blond, curly head.

"At the office?" you asked skeptically, wondering at his choice of business attire.

"Huh? Oh! No, I also work part-time at the Chikara Dojo. Teaching kung fu lessons."

"Kung fu… lessons."

Ward smirked at your dubious tone.

"Yeah, I- uh, I'm good friends with the dojo master, and she lets me give lessons there now."

Danny continued to smile nervously, and you studied the two of them with disbelief. If that's where Danny had been this whole time, wouldn't Ward have said so? Something wasn't adding up, and you had the distinct feeling you were being lied to.

You hated being lied to.

"Well, Ward got us dinner if you're hungry," you responded with a fabricated smile. If they didn't want to tell you what was going on, if they didn't trust you enough to be honest… then that was their choice. "We were just finishing up _Finding Nemo_ if you wanted to join us."

Danny's eyes lit up like a child's as he grinned with genuine delight.

" _Finding Nemo?_ I love that movie! It's a classic!"

You gave Ward an extremely smug look and he scoffed and rolled his eyes in disgust. "Whatever. You two are a lost cause."

"Oh please, you were glued to the screen," you responded with a smirk as Danny passed you while unzipping his hoodie, clearly excited by the prospect of watching the rest of the movie. "Don't try to deny it, Ward Meachum. We'll make a Disney fan of you yet."

"What am I, five?" Ward grumbled in a fashion that was very similar to that of a five year-old as he began to follow Danny out of the kitchen.

"You know what your problem is?" you teased as you took ahold of his arm, startling him as you held it in yours as you walked back to the den.

"Do tell," he said dryly.

"You don't know how to loosen up and have fun. Don't worry, Danny and I will show you the light."

"I can't wait," he responded with a tired sigh, but you noticed he tried to keep his face neutral as the corner of his mouth twitched.

Danny was already digging into his boxed dinner, his feet up on the coffee table as he shoveled noodles into his mouth. Feeling abruptly shy, you released Ward's arm and rubbed your own self-consciously. But Danny paid you no mind, much too intent on his food.

"Thai Lotus! My favorite!"

"Don't speak with your mouth full, Danny," Ward scolded in a disapproving tone.

"Yes, Dad," Danny responded with a closed-mouth grin.

Ward's response was to walk between Danny and the coffee table, knocking his legs to the floor as he passed by, which only made Danny laugh and slightly curl up his legs as Ward tossed a couch cushion in his direction.

"You better come sit between us, (Y/N). Protect me from Ward's wrath," Danny spoke with an amused grin as he patted the couch cushion next to him.

"Nothing can protect you from that, Danny," Ward quipped with a half-smirk, already sitting back in his earlier spot. His right arm was resting along the back of the couch, which would put it behind you when you sat down. Had he done that on purpose?

"Don't pull me into your lover's quarrel," you teased as you sat down between them. "I'm not equipped for couple's counseling."

Danny made a disbelieving noise, pointed with his chopsticks and said, "Ward would be so lucky to have me for a boyfriend."

"Is it a faux pas to murder one's friend in their own home?" was Ward's response.

"God, you two really _are_ married, aren't you?"

Ward gave you a cold glare that was also somehow as searing as the sun, while Danny laughed so hard he actually started to cough.

"Just watch the stupid fish movie," Ward grumbled as he started up the DVD player again, while Danny sat there shaking his head and grinning like he hadn't had this much enjoyment in a long time.

It should have been strange, the whole situation you had found yourself in. But instead of feeling awkward and out-of-place, you felt nothing but warmth and affection as you sat between your two friends (best friends?). It was almost possible to forget what had happened earlier that day, and that this could be your life now. Just you, Danny, and Ward. Together and happy, like some kind of misfit family.

Was that really so much to ask?

* * *

 **A/N: Poor Reader, I don't think I could survive a close encounter with Ward. (Also lol Reader for thinking Ward has his shit together. Hooo boy.)**

 **As always, you can follow me at TrashManWardMeachum on tumblr. Love y'all!**


	12. Chapter 12

Later that night, as you finally crawled into Danny's bed and pulled the covers up to your chin, you were still basking in the warmth of your friends' presences.

Saddled between Danny and Ward, you had finished the movie (with amusing commentary from Danny and Ward, which further proved that Ward secretly loved the movie since he hadn't made a peep while watching it earlier) and then lounged around while they talked about really nothing at all. Danny mildly complained about aspects of Rand Enterprises he thought were un-altruistic, and Ward continued to remind him (with a slightly clenched jaw) they were running a _business_ , not a charity.

Listening to their banter was as soothing as any bedtime story, and pretty soon you were nodding off again.

"Time for bed, I think," Danny said with a soft grin, and you peered at him in sleepy protest.

"Maybe. But I'm taking the couch this time."

"Jeez, you're as stubborn as Ward," Danny had responded, while Ward had scoffed and said:

"Oh that's rich, coming from the man who refused to wear shoes for days. Yes, Colleen told me about that," Ward added when Danny made a face.

"Who's Colleen?" you asked with a wide yawn.

"A… friend of mine. She's the one who runs the dojo I told you about."

"Oh." From his tone, there was much more there then he was telling, but it was late and you were tired. You didn't pursue it and filed it away for later.

"You're taking the bed though, (Y/N). So long as you're under my roof, that's where you'll be sleeping. Deal with it," he responded with a teasing grin.

"Rude," you said with a gentle shove at his shoulder. But Danny had won again, and Ward had soon said goodnight as he left to return to his own residence. You were disappointed, but really, why would Ward stay? You were grown adults, and you couldn't expect a nightly slumber party (as much as you wanted it).

After you had returned to Danny's bedroom and shut the door, you had smiled as you'd pulled Danny's t-shirt over your head. The one with the mermaid on it. You'd already formed an attachment to it and wondered if he would miss it if you kept it.

 _Danny lets you stay in his home, gives you food, protects you from your psychotic ex, and now you want to steal his clothing?_ The small, cruel voice in your head seemed to be sticking around, so you did your best to ignore it as you turned onto your side. Ward had been right. More and more you wanted to blame yourself for everything that had happened. Maybe it helped you retain a sense of control. Or maybe you really were just a bad person and deserved whatever karma dished out.

Shutting away the nasty voice was easier tonight, and focusing on how you had felt sitting next to Ward and Danny made the voice nearly silent. You fell asleep with a soft smile on your face, and you woke up feeling more refreshed than you had in months. And you hadn't slept the day away either, as you picked up your phone from the nightstand to see it was only nine o'clock. A half hour before your alarm was set to go off.

You took a quick shower, pulled on your packed work uniform and tennis shoes, and entered the living room to be greeted with a sight that was sure to become familiar – Danny in a loose yet refined pose, limbs molded into effortless grace as he stretched and slowly twisted in the air.

"Good morning," he stated smoothly, his back still to you as he faced the morning sun streaming in from the twenty-foot tall windows, the muscles along his shoulder blades standing out against his skin. He had opted to go shirtless today, and you decided you really couldn't complain at the unexpected development.

How had _both_ of your friends gotten so damn attractive?

"Morning, Danny," you responded with a smile, finding yourself in quite the good mood.

"How did you sleep?"

"Very well." You paused, your voice unsure as you said, "Thank you again for… for letting me stay."

Danny gave a soft chuckle and slowly pulled in his arms into a relaxed position before finally turning around. You gasped. And stared.

Sprawled across Danny's chest and spiraling up his abdomen was a giant, pitch-black tattoo of what appeared to be a dragon. And… funny thing was, you could have sworn you had seen it before.

"Well… that's new," you said once you had found your voice. Danny glanced down at his chest, and looked up to give you a wide smile in response. "What is it?"

"It's the mark of the Immortal Iron Fist," Danny stated, as if you should have any idea what that actually meant.

"Oh… What's an Immortal Iron Fist?"

His smile seemed to fall and lose some of its brightness.

"It's… um… a title rewarded to those who earn it."

"Ah," you responded as you walked forward, getting a better look at the artful lines. "A martial arts thing?"

"Eh… kind of?" Danny said with a pained smile, and you couldn't help but give a small laugh.

"I like it, Danny. I think it's beautiful."

"Really?" he asked with widened eyes. You nodded in return, genuinely meaning it. In fact, you had the odd urge to reach out and touch it, tracing its dark design across his chest. _Definitely_ not the appropriate response to seeing a friend's new tattoo.

"Really. Did you get it while you were… away?" You weren't sure how else to describe Danny's miraculous survival, not to mention being raised in a monastery (of which the details were still vague and sparse).

"I did," he said while looking down at the tattoo, the hint of pride on his face. It was fairly clear he admired the tattoo, and you had to admit, Danny was the last person you would have expected to get such a thing. Out of your group of childhood friends, you thought Ward would have gotten the first tattoo as a show of rebellion against his hard-ass father.

Instead, it had been Danny who had gotten a giant tattoo spanning his chest. Of a dragon, no less.

When Danny lifted his face to make eye contact again, he paused, glancing down your body with a confused expression.

"(Y/N)? What's this?"

"I have to head into work at the diner," you said, making a face as you looked down at your tacky navy-and-gold waitress dress. You'd always hated it.

"You're… you're going back to work? After yesterday? Do you think that's a good idea?"

You knew Danny meant well, and his tone held nothing but concern for you, but you bristled at the idea of being a fragile object that needed delicate care.

"I'll be fine, Danny. I need to start getting my life back to normal." _Not to mention I need to save up money for a new place as soon as possible._ You didn't add that last part, knowing the puppy-dog look that would form on Danny's face from those words.

"I understand, but… isn't it too soon? Shouldn't you give yourself some time to fully process and heal?" Danny moved a little closer to you, and you were beginning to realize the deadly combination that was Danny's clear blue eyes and his graceful, wiry frame. It didn't weaken your resolve, but it was sure doing a number on it. "You haven't even mentioned what happened with… at your old apartment."

You couldn't meet his eye as you said, "I have processed it. Kind of. I… Ward and I talked last night."

That made Danny's eyebrows quirk upwards in surprise.

"Ward talked with you?"

"Yeah. I wasn't… doing all that well. So he talked for a while. About when you first came back to New York. It helped take my mind off things." A slow smile spread across your face at the memory. "It sounded like you two did _not_ get along."

"That's one way to put it," Danny responded with rare annoyance in his voice. "They didn't believe I was who I said I was. Ward had me tossed into a mental institute after Joy drugged me."

The smile faded from your face as you looked back at Danny, but it was his turn to look away this time, his eyebrows creased with troubled thoughts.

"He… he didn't mention that part." _Joy_ had drugged Danny? She had always been the one to first come to Danny's defense when Ward was being a bully. It didn't make any sense.

Danny shrugged and said, "I'm not really surprised. Ward would do anything to protect his sister's name and reputation. Even after…" Danny blanched and gave you a quick glance, as if he had said something he shouldn't have.

"Even after what?" you pressed, curious about the Meachums and how they had changed over the years.

"Even after she left," Danny finally responded, rubbing the back of his curly-blond head. "They're not exactly on speaking terms with one another."

"Did they have a fight?" It was hard to imagine the two of them estranged. Even as kids, Ward always looked out for Joy. They had been inseparable, and it was unimaginable for them to be apart now.

"Sort of. It's difficult to explain." Danny looked down at his feet, which you only now noticed were bare. "Either way, I guess she needed a break, because she left the city. Left the country, actually. She's no longer on the board either. I'm not sure when she'll be coming back."

"Wow," was all the response you had, shocked that things had gotten so bad between the siblings. "I… I'm sorry to hear that. I can't imagine how hard this must be for Ward." Speaking of the man, he hadn't said a thing about Joy to you. You wouldn't have known anything was amiss if Danny hadn't said something. It deepened the already entrenched guilt in your gut. Here you were, complaining about your own problems, when those around you were doing just as poorly in their own lives. And you did nothing to help them.

"I have to head out, now," you said after a moment, pulling your purse upward onto your shoulder. "I have the lunch and dinner shift. And hopefully I'll make enough tips to start paying you back."

Danny gave you a disapproving look, though for him it just came off as slightly petulant and quite endearing. He didn't have the intimidating glare that Ward had perfected to an art.

"I mean it, Danny. I pay my debts." You were about to turn and head for the front door, but a hand on the top of your shoulder stopped you. You looked at Danny questioningly, and the look he gave you was one of a man about to confess something deeply personal.

"(Y/N)… I don't want you to pay me back. For anything. Not only is it unnecessary, it would be almost insulting."

Your brows creased as you stared back at him. "How so?" He sighed and dropped his hand from your shoulder, the muscles in his own bunched with tension.

"I… I lived the first ten years of my life in extraordinary, ludicrous privilege and wealth. I wanted for nothing. I didn't understand hardship, not really. Not then." Danny closed his eyes, as if to steel himself, and you turned your full attention on him.

"Do you know what happened to me and my parents?" he asked after opening his eyes, watching you.

"Nothing specific," you responded, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand on end. "Danny… if you don't want to talk about it…"

"No," Danny said, his expression softening. "I want to tell you. It might… help you understand."

You nodded in response. What else could you do? You wouldn't deny Danny the opportunity to get this off of his chest. Hell… you weren't sure you could deny Danny anything at this point. He had done so much for you already, and you would do anything to return the kindness.

"You know about the trip we were supposed to take, me and my parents. We were flying to Anzhou, but… over the Himalayas, the plane began to dive. The cockpit was unresponsive. I... I watched as the roof of the cabin was torn apart, and my mother was ripped through the hole." His voice was becoming rougher as he recounted the tale, his words slow and clearly difficult to express.

"I was helpless to stop it. My mother was there one minute, and the next she was just… gone." Danny took a shuddering breath, and your chest clenched with empathetic pain. "Then we impacted against the side of a mountain, or we must have. I don't remember." Danny looked back up, into your eyes, his own glistening from reliving the memory. "I woke up in the snow, still strapped to my seat. I found the pilots, and then my father. He…" His voice cracked then, and you moved forward to place a hand on his bare arm.

"It's okay, Danny," you whispered softly, wanting him to know he didn't have to continue if he couldn't. But he only gave you a sweet smile, sniffled, and continued onward.

"I thought I was going to die. I had survived the crash only to die from the cold. But then two monks found me in the snowstorm. They took me in. Healed me, fed me, sheltered me."

"I'm glad they did," you responded automatically, slightly rubbing his bicep now in an effort to comfort him. But he gave you a strange look, as if your words brought him regret somehow.

"It wasn't an easy life. There was turmoil and true hardship. I learned what it was to suffer. To feel alone. An outcast and a burden in a strange land. My family gone, and my friends… they had no idea what had happened to me. They probably believed I was dead. It was all I could think about, getting strong enough so that one day I could…" he trailed off then, his eyes moving away from yours as he appeared tormented by whatever he was holding back.

"So you could what, Danny?" you asked quietly, all thoughts of getting to work on time forgotten.

"So that I could come back." He turned back to you, and you were pinned on the spot by the intensity of his eyes. "To Joy. To Ward." Danny paused for a moment, before softly adding, "To you."

You were too stunned to respond, your hand frozen on his arm. Though there was an inconvenient blush beginning to warm your face at the thought that Danny had, well… missed you. At least as much as you had missed him, by the sound of it.

"Anyway," Danny said as he looked away, an awkwardness in his voice and posture that was unmistakable. "The point I was making is: I understand what it's like to have everything taken away from you. To be left with nothing, and to be completely and totally isolated and alone. To struggle, while those who can help do nothing. And I don't want that to happen to you. Not if I can do something about it."

Well, _damn_. When he put it that way, it was really hard to say no. Especially when he brought the power of his baby-blues to bear, pleading with you to allow him to do this one thing that clearly meant so much to him.

"Okay, Danny. Okay," you relented, giving his arm a squeeze before letting go. "I'll let you help. But! I'm still getting my own apartment, and I'm paying for it. That's my one condition."

"Only if you can afford your own apartment," Danny responded with a smile that brought out the dimples in his cheeks. Something you were only now noticing.

"You can't add an amendment to my amendment," you protested stubbornly.

"It's called an addendum, and I just did." The grin grew wider, and you gave him an eye roll that Ward would have been proud of.

"Ward is being a bad influence on you, Mr. Business Man. Speaking of…" You peered at him and his very interesting lack of clothing. "Don't you own like, half a company you should be running right now?"

"Eh, I let Ward do most of that stuff," Danny responded with a sheepish smile, his fingers once again returning to the curls on the back of his head. You gave him a deadpan expression.

"You mean, you make Ward do most of the work while you sit at home doing yoga or Pilates or whatever?" You crossed your arms over your chest and channeling your inner, disapproving parent.

"It's _mediation_. It helps center and focus my chi," Danny protested with a huff. "And besides, this is how Ward prefers it. He hates when I interfere with 'business as usual.'" The wince on his face told you that your hardening glare was doing its job.

"Right. Because Ward definitely seems like the type of person who would ask for help if he needs it."

Danny opened his mouth… and slowly shut it.

"I see your point."

"That's very wise of you," you responded with a good-natured grin now that you'd won the argument. "I expect you'll put some clothes on and make sure your business partner doesn't run himself into the ground."

Danny rolled his eyes, but he was smiling again, and that's all that mattered. The shadows in his eyes were no longer actively haunting him, but you had a feeling they were always there, ready to spring on him at a moment's notice. Losing your family in such an abrupt violent way left lifelong scars.

"Thank you for telling me, Danny. That couldn't have been easy for you, and… it means a lot to me."

Danny gave you a smile that was equal parts bashful and self-deprecating, and it made you adore him even more.

Giving him one last warm smile, you turned on your heels, and headed for the front door. "Tell Ward I said hi!"

"Yes, Mom!" came Danny's smartass response from the living room, and you grinned despite yourself as you shut the door behind you.


	13. Chapter 13

Rushing into Andromeda Diner, you pretended not to be in a hurry as you slowed your speed, smoothing out the wrinkles in your skirt and adjusting your purse on your shoulder. You headed straight to the employee lockers, passing by the star-speckled archways and planet-themed tables and keeping your head down in hopes of going unnoticed.

You had been scheduled to work yesterday, and since you had been a no-show due to… unforeseen circumstances, they probably never expected to hear from you again. Which meant talking to your manager was the next stop. You retrieved your pumps from your locker, placing your tennis shoes and purse inside before shoving the heels on your feet. You winced at the uncomfortable way your toes were wedged against the material, but you couldn't afford to waste any more time. Your ass was on the line.

When he wasn't out on the floor, your boss was in his cramped office in the back, so that's where you ventured since you hadn't caught sight of him on the way in. You tapped on the ajar metal door, heard a "come in!" before you walked inside, trying to take a calming breath and slow your pounding heart.

"Hey, Travis," you greeted with a nervous smile to the man behind the desk. Your boss stared back up at you, lowering his glasses in surprise.

"(Y/N). I wasn't expecting to see you today," he responded with a smile that wasn't altogether pleasant.

"Yeah, um," you stammered awkwardly, trying not to fidget. "I'm really sorry about yesterday. I had a personal emergency I had to take care of."

"Have a seat," he responded, gesturing to the chair in front of his cheap, wooden desk. You gulped compulsively from the nervous dryness in your mouth.

"What kind of emergency?" he asked once you settled into the chair, closing his laptop and giving you his full attention. Your insides squirmed with discomfort, but you had to give him a legitimate reason, didn't you?

"I, um… had to move out of my apartment. Immediately. I didn't have a choice or any warning ahead of time."

Travis' eyebrows creased with skepticism as he asked, "You couldn't have called?"

"I didn't have access to my phone." You hesitated, trying to navigate the severity of your situation without actually giving embarrassing details. Because at this point it sounded like you were just making excuses. You could have easily called from Danny's apartment, but at the time, your crappy job waiting tables had been the last thing on your mind.

"I couldn't get into my apartment until yesterday. It was… pretty bad."

"Money problems?" he inquired in what was probably supposed to be a sympathetic tone, but it rubbed you the wrong way. You hated this. Hated being put on the spot. But there was no way you would confess that you had basically fled from your home because of your abusive ex.

"Let's just say, my apartment was no longer livable," you responded after a moment, giving him enough of the truth that no one could accuse you of dishonesty.

"New York landlords," Travis commented with a shake of his head, leaning back in his chair. "Scum of the earth. Always trying to force out tenants by letting everything go to shit."

"Yeah," you responded with a nervous laugh, returning his smile as you felt like you suddenly wanted to scream. The longer you danced around the subject of your ex, the more your skin itched and your mind tried crawl through a quagmire of panic.

"Well, get in touch with me next time there's an emergency, okay? You really left us high and dry, and on a Sunday no less."

"I will, Travis. I'm sorry again," you mumbled your apology, just wanting to be out of there and back to work. Not that dealing with entitled and obnoxious Manhattan tourists would lighten your mood, but it was better than being put under the microscopic by your boss.

"Just don't do it again," he responded with a smile that made you want to grit your teeth, as if he was doing you some huge favor by allowing you to continue to work too many hours on a barely-livable wage.

"Yes, sir," you responded while standing, hoping the added honorific would earn points with him. It seemed to work; he gave you a warmer smile over his folded hands, and you retreated from his office before he could see the shiver that went up your spine. You didn't dislike your manager, per se, but there was something about him that always left you feeling a little uneasy.

You were just in time to hit the early lunch crowd as you got on the floor, and thankfully it sped time to a pace that was harried but wonderfully distracting. Lunch turned into a lull during the afternoon, but soon people started to come in for evening meals and you were swept up again in the current of hungry tourists (you knew they were tourists, because no Manhattanites would go to such gaudy, tourist-trap restaurants).

Not only that, but you were earning more tips than usual, and soon you figured out why.

"So, who's the lucky guy?" your coworker asked while you were in the back, eating your lunch which consisted of fries and an avocado sandwich.

"Hmm?" you asked around a mouthful of bread.

"You've got this glow about you," she clarified with a teasing smile. "So, you got a special someone in your life?"

You shook your head, but you couldn't hide the dumb grin on your face, imagining the shocked look on her face if you had confessed, _I have two, actually._

And before you knew it, your ten hour shift was over (accurately told by the aching of your feet rather than by any man-made clock). You headed to the back locker room, nerves tingling with excitement at the prospect of getting off work so you could head back to Danny's apartment. It was nearly eight o'clock and you had texted him earlier with the time your shift was ending and if he wanted to watch a movie. Danny had responded immediately and enthusiastically with lots of emojis, and you grinned at the memory of it. You were already running through the options of which one watch next (after you bugged Ward to death to join you, of course).

There was something about the idea of going home to someone that held an appeal for you that you had never experienced before. Even if it was your friend rather than a romantic partner, it still filled your chest with hopeful warmth

That hope slowly died as you caught sight of your boss' face, his figure blocking your way to the locker room.

"Hey, (Y/N). Can I talk to you a moment?"

"Sure," you responded automatically, voice oddly distant as you followed him into his office. Unlike earlier, he shut the door behind you as he asked you to sit. You obeyed, lowering yourself into the stiff chair as you held your hands in your lap, locking your fingers together to keep them from trembling.

You didn't know what Travis wanted, but you could feel it deep in your gut: something terrible was about to happen.

Your boss sat down in his own office chair, looking at you evenly over the rim of his glasses. It made you want to scream at him. _Just say it already!_

Without a word, Travis opened a folder and retrieved a plain, white envelope from it. He slid the item across his desk toward you. You stared at it, unmoving, as if afraid to touch it for fear it would bite you.

"What is this?" you asked in a dull voice.

"Your last paycheck."

You looked up from the envelope, staring at him with an expression that seemed frozen in stone.

"My… last?"

"That's right," Travis responded with a burdened sigh. "You've always been an exemplary worker, (Y/N), and I appreciate all the effort you've put in to serving our customers. But I need someone I can depend on. That will show up to work when they say they will and leaves their personal dramas at home."

You slowly shook your head, disbelief muddling your mind.

"I don't… understand. I thought… everything was okay."

As you stared at his smarmy face, it dawned on you what had occurred since earlier that day. Of course.

"What changed?" you asked as your fists tightened in your lap. You knew what had changed. But you wanted to hear him say it.

"My mind," he responded, his smile fading as he was caught off-guard by the sudden lack of fear in your tone and face. "We have a no-tolerance policy for tardiness and absence, and I can't make exceptions just because I like you."

You cheeks heated with shame and anger at the patronizing tone, and your jaw clenched as you ground your teeth together.

"Plus, I have a stack of applicants in my drawer that would leap at the chance to take your position. You must understand my position—"

"He contacted you, didn't he?" you interrupted as if you hadn't heard a word he had said. "Josh called you. What did he say?"

Now it was Travis' turn to express anger, but there was a shade of embarrassment there as well as he awkwardly shuffled the papers on his desk.

"I don't want to be pulled into your 'he said, she said' drama. I require employees who can focus on the customer's experience and satisfaction – not bring their boyfriend problems to work."

You barked with laughter. Travis' eyes went wide.

" _My boyfriend problems?_ You mean, domestic abuse? Being stalked and harassed? Having to flee my own home because I was terrified for my safety?" Your boss opened his mouth to speak, and you snapped, " _Fuck_ you, Travis. Fuck you and your ambivalent, 'I'm above it all' attitude. Fuck you for listening to lies from someone you don't even know, believing him over your own employee because Josh also has a dick."

Travis' face was turning beet-red at this point, and you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"You can take your half-assed excuses and apologies and shove it, you arrogant son-of-a-bitch."

You snatched your paycheck from the desk, took some satisfaction in the horrified expression on your boss' face, before turning and flinging open the door, letting it slam against the wall on your way out.

Your movements were flustered and angry as you yanked your purse from your locker, your only thought of escape and fleeing from the confining spaces of a place you had once used as a half-refuge when you had lived with Josh. And now he had managed to ruin that, too.

Storming out of the diner, you were too livid by the thought of Josh sabotaging your only source of income that you didn't realize you had left your tennis shoes behind, the stiffling pumps still on your feet.

 _Fucking coward,_ you internally raged as you powerwalked down the sidewalk. _Of course he would do this to me. Too afraid to confront me in public so he goes behind my back to ruin my life._ You should have known it wouldn't be that easy. That Ward and Danny helping you move out wouldn't be the end of it.

The thought of Danny made you stop short in your tracks. The people walking behind you nearly ran into your back, and you ignored their curses as you moved to the side and pulled your phone from your purse. There was another text message from Danny waiting for you.

 ** _[07:45 pm] Hey, (Y/N). :) Hope work is good and ur not pushin urself too hard._**

 ** _Oh! i have an idea for a movie. did u want to watch Harry Potter tonight? i havent seen the first movies in years so might have to start from the beginning. Hope thats ok. :)_**

The tears stung your eyes as a lump formed in your throat. How were you going to explain this to Danny, especially after you had promised to move out on your own? After everything he had done to help you and you still couldn't get your shit together.

You placed the phone back in your purse, message unanswered, wiping your eyes harshly with the back of your hand. As much as you wanted to blame Josh for all off your problems, you knew that wasn't entirely reasonable. You were a fuck-up long before your ex came along, and this was just further proof that you continued to fuck up even after he was no longer a part of your life.

You couldn't return to the apartment. Not yet. You weren't ready to face Danny's hurtful expression, the pain of his disappointment in his clear blue eyes. You needed time.

And what better way to pass the time than by spending it with other self-destructive fuck-ups?

Finding a bar that wasn't ludicrously overpriced (and was the level of seediness you were seeking) made you catch a cab and head to Hell's Kitchen. You figured by the end of your night your hard-earned cash would be spent on booze, and that was perfectly fine with you. It's not like your tips for the day could buy you an apartment, anyway.

The first hour went spectacularly well, you thought. You hated the taste of most alcohol, but you found the trashy bar made a decent pineapple martini, and the lukewarm vodka was easier to swallow than the realization you had royally screwed up your life.

It wasn't long before you attracted attention, dressed as you were in your obnoxious blue-and-gold dress and black pumps. You had pulled your hair into a ponytail at some point, the oppressive heat of the crowded bodies getting to you.

"Hey, cutie."

You looked up at the man who had addressed you. A sleazy looking guy that reminded you too much of your boss.

"Sorry," you responded automatically, wincing as you apologized for literally sitting there, minding your own business. "Not really in the mood to make small talk."

"Neither am I," he said with a leering grin. A wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the alcohol hit your stomach. You tried your best to ignore him, even though he was practically leaning over you as he ordered a drink from the bartender (an older woman who looked like she was just as likely to serve you as she was to hit you over the head with a pool cue).

"Aw, come on, sweetie. You look like you've had a bad day, and I'm just trying to be nice."

You continued to pointedly ignore him, and were saved by the vibration coming from your purse. You pulled out your phone, and your gut twisted again. This time with guilt.

 _ **[10:16 pm] Hey u! Evrything ok? Ur shift ended at 8 right? maybe i got it wrong :) Text me back?**_

"That your boyfriend?" sleazy-dude asked as you grit your teeth.

"Yep." You knew the asshole wouldn't leave you alone because that's what you wanted, but he might bugger off if he thought you were taken. But apparently not.

"Why isn't he here with you, then? Beautiful woman such as yourself, I wouldn't let you out of my sight." He reached out to take a strand of your hair, twirling it in his fingers playfully, and you snatched it out of his hands.

"She doesn't want to talk to you, you dumb fuck."

You blinked and looked up to see the bartender had returned, her beefy arms crossing her chest as she glared at the man. His lips were formed into a twitchy snarl, but he didn't say anything, instead turning and moving out of sight. Hopefully toward the exit.

"You okay, hun?" the woman asked, her voice softening as she turned her gaze on you. You nodded with a half-assed attempt at a smile, your heart still pounding in your chest at the near-confrontation. You'd had your fill of aggressive men to last a lifetime. Judging by the look on her face, the woman understood that sentiment all too well.

"Let me know if that shithead comes back and bothers you, all right?"

"Thank you," you responded with a shaky smile. She didn't quite return the gesture, but she nodded and her expression didn't harden again until she turned her attention to another customer.

After a few minutes, you felt your purse vibrate again and you saw another text. This time from someone else.

 _ **[10:29 pm] I'm sure you just need some time to yourself and everything is copacetic, but seeing as how Danny is on the verge of sending out a search party to retrieve your lifeless body, I felt it was my duty to reach out and make sure you're still alive and breathing.**_

 _ **As enjoyable as it is to see Danny squirm, it would not be remiss to show proof to him that you are indeed still among the living. Please respond when you can.**_

You placed the phone back in your purse, tears of guilt stinging the corners of your eyes. You wanted to message them back, knew you had to, but you just couldn't. Not yet.

So you ordered another martini, hoping to drown the guilt in copious amounts of alcohol. It was beginning to work, but you weren't left in peace for long. Now another guy (he wasn't terrible looking) sat next to you at the bar, nursing his beer as he gave you an interested smile.

"Hi," he finally said, apparently not dissuaded by you making a point not to look his direction. You sighed.

"Hi," you responded with your best attempt at a smile, and it felt phoned in even to you. But the warmth in your gut was beginning to loosen your muscles and limbs, and it was nice to have been greeted like a human being this time.

"Don't think I've seen you here before," he pondered, tilting his head slightly as he looked at you. "Trust me, I would have remembered."

You rolled your eyes at him in the most dramatic way possible, and he surprised you by actually laughing.

"Yeah, that was really terrible, wasn't it? Sorry. I'm kind of rusty at this. You know. The whole hitting on strangers thing. I normally stick to awkwardly avoiding eye contact and pretending I don't occupy this plane of existence." You snorted with laughter, unable to help yourself.

"Well, you're doing great so far," you responded with a more genuine smile. He actually was pretty cute, now that you were getting a better look at him. He had longish blond hair, a sincere face, and charmingly warm eyes.

"Yeah? So you're saying there's a chance I'm not a complete human disaster?" he asked with an open, earnest impression.

"Seeing as we just met and I don't know a thing about you, I don't feel comfortable making that sort of judgement call," you responded with a half-grin, and he grinned back at you. _Wow,_ you thought. _The booze are finally getting to me. I'm actually not scaring this guy off, and I haven't wanted to punch him in his teeth yet._

"Let's fix that. Name's Franklin Nelson. But please, call me Foggy. All the bottom-feeding creatures I call associates do." He held out his hand and you took it, shaking it and trying not to laugh as you told him your name.

"Not to pry, but…" You raised your eyebrows, his tone expressing that he absolutely did want to pry. "Seeing as that's your third martini, and you appear to have come alone, I take it you're here to get completely hammered and forget that you, too, occupy this plane of existence." You nearly snorted alcohol up your nose. "Not to say letting the stale miasma of Josie's bar permeate your pores isn't its own kind of special fun."

"How very astute of you," you answered with a teasing smile that was _definitely_ fueled by alcohol.

"That is why I passed the bar, after all," he said with a playful shrug. "Figuring out the poor miserable souls that wander into Josie's, and then doing my utmost to make them despise me as fast as physically possible with my ostentatious and bullheaded flirting."

"You're doing a terrible job, then. Might want a refund on that law degree," you quipped back as you took another sip, giving him a smirk over the rim of the glass.

"Oh, ouch. I like you. You remind me of someone I know."

"One of these bottom-feeders you mentioned earlier?" you asked with raised eyebrows.

He shook his long, dirty-blond hair and said, "Nah. She's actually one of the few people in my life who is a genuinely kind, good, decent human being." Foggy looked almost lost for a second, and you tilted your head as you stared at him.

"She sounds nice. Why…" You fidgeted with a napkin on the scuffed bar, wondering how to say this in a way that didn't sound completely rude and tactless. "Why not have a drink with her instead?"

"Because she deserves better, that's why," he responded quietly, staring down at the beer in his hands, and your heart clenched with sympathy.

You raised your martini glass, drawing his attention.

"To the wonderful people we call friends despite the fact they deserve better than our bullshit." Foggy's face lit up and he raised his own beer.

"To getting our shit together and stop hurting the people we care about."

"Here, here," you responded with a wide grin as your glasses clinked together.

"Now it's time to get serious. I don't know about you, but I feel the dire need to get sloshed as fast as possible. Josie!"

The woman looked up, saw who had called her name, and gave Foggy an expression that was a mixture of annoyance and fondness. There was little doubt he was a frequent patron, and if Josie didn't look at him with total disgust, you figured he couldn't be so bad.

As your new friend ordered a round of hard liquor for the both of you, you pulled the phone from your purse again, noticing it was vibrating and awash with light.

 **[Incoming Call: Danny Rand]**

Nervous guilt shot through your chest, and your index finger hovered over the "Accept" button. But you couldn't bring yourself to connect the call - as much as you wanted to hear Danny's voice and reassure him you were okay. The shame of betraying Danny's confidence and trust, of letting him down by getting fired (not to mention cursing out your former boss) on your first day back, kept you from tapping the screen. Instead, you held the button on the side of the phone, switching it off.


	14. Chapter 14

"Trouble in paradise?" Foggy inquired with good-natured cheer after you had turned off your phone and put it back into your purse. He handed you a scotch glass of something brown and opaque, and you took it gladly.

"Something like that," you responded with a faded smile, pushing away the thought of Danny trying to call you back and being unable to get through. But you were a grown woman, and Danny wasn't your father. You didn't have to answer to him, and you didn't have to check in with him if you wanted to go out for a drink.

"Something like that?" Foggy asked with a raised eyebrow and a quirked smile. You sighed and anxiously ran your fingers through your ponytail.

"Yeah, you know. Just me avoiding my responsibilities and the consequences of my actions," you added as you stared down at the glass in your hand.

"Oh, that's my _favorite_ kind of avoidance," Foggy joked as he held up his glass. "To shirking our duties!"

You laughed and clicked your own glass against his as you returned his smile. The warmth of good company and alcohol washed away lingering thoughts of Danny.

You completely lost track of time (and drinks). After you were proficiently numb, both physically and emotionally, you stood up from the bar stool. Or you tried. Your legs refused to cooperate, and you practically fell on top of Foggy as your legs turned to wet noodles.

"Whoa, hey now," Foggy chuckled as he held you upright. "I know I'm delectable and it's hard to keep your hands off, but I'm the kind of dame that needs to be wooed with flowers and candlelit dinners first."

"I'll keep that in mind, Foggster," you responded with a stupid, drunken grin. Foggy guffawed loudly, drawing a scandalized look from Josie (especially considering you were half on Foggy's lap).

"But seriously, I should probably head out," you added, only slightly slurring as you righted yourself and began to stumble toward the door.

"O-o-okay, slow your roll there, champ," Foggy chuckled as he grabbed your arm to keep you from falling to the sticky floor. "You have someone that can come pick you up?"

"I'm fine," you responded with your signature one-liner. You really should get it trademarked, you thought, as you pulled your purse higher onto your shoulder, attempting to appear dignified as you both exited the crowded bar. Once you reached the sidewalk, however, you wavered on your heels like a newborn fawn.

"Oh, yeah, definitely. You look totally fine," Foggy commented in a voice that attempted humor but just came out worried, and placed a hand on your upper arm as he attempted to keep you from falling into the street and becoming roadkill.

"I'm gonna… I'm just gonna walk. Clear my head and… sober up a bit," you stammered in a reasonable (and not at all drunk) tone as you started to walk away. "See you later, Foggy. Thanks for the drinks and the laughs and the… reminder that not everyone in this world is a piece of shit."

"Well now, let's not be too hasty on that front," Foggy said with a grin as he jogged to catch up with you. "And as for walking to sober up, yeah… that's not really how it works. You're going to be as drunk as a skunk for a while. Where are you headed?"

"M-midtown," you stuttered as your ankle buckled, nearly throwing you to the ground again. "Ugh, these fucking shoes!" You stopped and bent over, kicking off your heels in frustration and immediately sighing with pleasure as your feet pressed into the sidewalk. Your legs and feet were covered with nylon stockings, but you could still feel the warmth of the concrete against your skin.

"Much better," you commented as you shoved your shoes into your purse. They barely fit, but you didn't care. You were feeling good, your problems were far away, and you were with very decent company.

"Yeah, definitely walking you there. Especially if you're going all _Jane of the Jungle_ on me," Foggy stated with a pained smile while staring at your feet. "You do realize you're probably going to need a tetanus shot by the time we get to wherever you're going, right? Why don't you let me call you a cab instead?"

You huffed and began walking again, doing your best to walk in a straight line and not the weaving path you were traveling.

"I don't need you, or anyone else, to look after me. I can take care of myself. Less people get hurt that way."

Foggy shot a dubious side-glance in your direction. It was almost annoying how he didn't seem to be half as intoxicated as you were. Then again, you'd had three martinis before you'd joined him in a drinking game of _how wasted can we get on cheap booze that burns like gasoline and tastes just as bad?_

"You want to talk about it?" he asked in a soft tone that made you want to pull out one of your shoes and throw it at him. Why was he being so nice to you? You'd been nothing but a sarcastic asshole all night. And yet, Foggy hadn't fled for the hills.

"Does it _look_ like I wanna talk about it?" you responded with slurred sassiness. Foggy reached out once again to steady your balance. This time he left his arm there, hooked around yours, and you didn't protest. The ground really was swaying in a rather unfortunate manner.

"You look like a woman trying to drown her demons in Manhattan's grungiest bar with Manhattan's cheapest and most suspect alcohol."

"Don't tell me you're a psychic lawyer," you replied with a grandiose eye roll, but Foggy only laughed and shook his head.

"The 'uncanny lawyer' bit belonged to my previous partner." He looked almost melancholy for a moment, and you wondered if there were painful memories there. "But me? I'm just a sad sack in a cheap suit, but damn I look good doing it."

You met his eye. His expression was so deadpan you couldn't help but burst into laughter, causing him to do the same.

"You're all right, Foggy Nelson. You're good people," you teased while gently prodding his size.

"Ah, you're not so bad yourself, kiddo," he chuckled as he gave your arm a squeeze. "Which is why I'm offering you the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to unburden all of your woes and heap them onto a complete stranger."

You gave him a look and drawled, "We're hardly strangers now, Foggy. You received the first and last lap dance I've ever given." That made him give a loud snort, and you decided right then and there that you really liked him. He hadn't once tried to make a move on you, or made you feel uncomfortable. And sure, that was a pretty low bar by most standards, but considering most of the men in your life couldn't reach it, well...

Either way, it was becoming pretty clear to you that Foggy was just a good person. And it was probably the reason why you opened your mouth and confessed:

"I lost my job today."

Foggy turned his head to stare at you, probably as surprised by your admission as you were.

"My ex-boyfriend called my boss, and… I don't know what he said, but the next thing I knew I was out of a job." You tried to keep your voice from cracking, but failed spectacularly. "That's why I went and found the darkest and seediest bar I could find. I just… needed to not think for a while."

"Jesus, I'm so sorry. What a fucking asshole." Foggy's angered tone and the crease of his eyebrows made you actually smile. There was something about him that reminded you a little bit of Danny.

 _No, no, don't think about Danny, not right now._

"Hey, don't even let it bother you. I mean, losing your job is the worst, but your boss is a moron for listening to that guy. If the last four hours are anything to go by, you are a magnificent human being and any man or woman would be lucky to have you."

"Thank you, Foggy." Your smile and voice were brittle as you tried not to cry. You wiped the corner of your eye while laughing in frustration and said, "Oh shit, I think I might be an emotional drunk."

"Aaaah, there's worse types of drunks than being the sort to get a little weepy. Personally, I find it adorable."

You snorted and said, "Are you the type of drunk that turns into a loveable jackass?"

"Nope, that's one hundred percent, authentic Foggy Nelson. And speaking of me being a jackass…" he hesitated a moment, before turning to you with a confident smile. "I am totally up for representing you, pro bono, if you want to go after your shithead boss for 'unlawful termination.'"

You stared back at him for a moment, feeling like you were going to start crying again. "I… no, Foggy. That's okay. I just want to put it behind me. Besides, I technically did miss work without calling in. He has the grounds to fire me, as much as I hate it." You shook your head, and the dark sidewalk swayed precariously for a moment. Once the world was set right, you said, "I don't think he did anything illegal."

Foggy looked defeated for a moment, glancing away as he blew a strand of hair out of his face, but then he turned back to you with that winning smile again.

"Let me at least draft up a restraining order for your ex to make sure he can't pull this kind of shit again. Free of charge."

"Foggy, I couldn't ask you to—"

"Oh trust me, you don't have to. It would be my pleasure." And he meant it too.

You laughed and shook your head; you really were close to bursting into tears. "What kind of lawyer are you, anyway?"

"A starry-eyed, naïve defense attorney, once upon a time." He had a wistful expression on his face as he spoke, his eyes distant and far away. "Championing the defenseless. Speaking up for the downtrodden. Fighting the good fight."

"What happened?" you asked, trying to focus on his face. You really were more inebriated than you had first suspected, and your plan to sober up by walking was indeed turning out to be a futile one.

"My partner and I… we had different ideas about what we wanted for our firm. To put it in a delicate way, where I'm not shouting and cursing his name at the moon." Foggy chuckled, but there were wounds there that were only freshly healed. You'd only known Foggy for a few hours, but you couldn't imagine the kind of person who wouldn't be able to get along with him.

"This old partner of yours sounds like a real asshole," you proclaimed with a stumble, and Foggy began to laugh.

He stopped laughing when you didn't recover from your misstep.

"(Y/N)? (Y/N)!"

Foggy caught you under the arms just as you started to sink to your knees, your legs suddenly rubber as your stomach began to spasm angrily.

"I'm… I'm going to…"

He seemed to understand your frantic gasps, and he pulled you to the curb as you began to gag. He pulled the hair from your face just in time as you bent over and vomited into the gutter, coughing and heaving and making the most disgusting human noises possible. You probably would have fallen face-first into your own mess if Foggy hadn't been there to hold you up. He was a lot stronger than he looked.

"I gotcha. I'm here. Just let it all out. That's it." Foggy gently rubbed your back as you moaned in distress, the unfortunate mixture of bile and alcohol burning your esophagus. The taste was even worse coming up than it had been going down, and you wondered if you were dying.

"Oh, God," you groaned before vomiting again, barely avoiding puking on your own bare feet as Foggy continued to hold you steady.

Eventually you stopped being sick all over the street, and managed to slowly stand with Foggy's assistance. No one had even given you a second glance. This was New York after all.

Despite the fact no one cared, you couldn't bear to look at Foggy's face as you wiped the back of your hand across your mouth. A white object caught your attention, and you turned to see Foggy holding out a handkerchief with a commiserating look.

"Thanks," you croaked miserably as you took the fabric and used it to clean your lips and face. Luckily, you seemed to have avoided getting any of the undigested contents of your stomach onto the rest of your person. "I'm so… so sorry."

Foggy scoffed and said, "I think I mentioned that I went to college, right? This isn't the first time I've held up a friend while they've puked up half their body weight. Think nothing of it."

"You're a saint, Foggy Nelson," you rasped, giving him your best pathetic attempt at a smile. "I owe you one."

"Let me write up that stellar, airtight restraining order against your psychotic ex, and I'll consider us even—whoa!" Foggy exclaimed as you nearly collapsed again, grabbing you by the shoulders as your face folded inward in pain.

"…Something is wrong. I… I feel strange." Your speech was becoming more slurred, and it was hard to focus on Foggy as the world slowly spun around you. You had thought expunging some of the booze from your system would have helped, but you felt worse than before.

"Okay, okay. Here. Let's sit you down, over here. I think this spot is clean of puke and rat feces," Foggy half-joked, half-worried as he led you to the front stoop of a shop that was closed for the night. He held your arm firmly as he lowered you onto the step. By the look on his face, you must have appeared like death warmed over. You certainly felt that way.

"Do you have a friend who can come pick you up? Or-or should I call a cab and take you to the hospital?"

You were already shaking your head before he finished the sentence, a gesture you immediately regretted as the world swayed like a merry-go-round and you had to press the heel of your hand against your forehead to make it slow down.

"No. No hospitals. I'm f-fine. I just need… a moment."

"Yeah, okay. You do that, and I'll call someone for you. Where's your phone?" His tone was suddenly clipped and in-charge, and you had an inkling that this was his court room voice. You could easily imagine the great attorney he probably was.

"Purse," you responded weakly, your eyes still shut as you focused on not passing out, sluggish mind attempting to understand what was happening. Sure, you'd never gotten this drunk before, and you drank maybe once or twice a year. But this felt different somehow. Like someone had…

"Foggy?" you asked, grabbing his attention before he could grab your phone. "When… when I went to the bathroom, just before I left… did you see anyone hanging around… the bar?"

The span of two heartbeats passed before Foggy cursed loudly, but he sounded more anxious than angry.

"That creepy guy. The one Josie told off earlier. He came up and ordered another drink right where you had been seated. And your drink… Oh my God, I am so sorry. I should have been watching it more closely."

"It's not your fault," you responded while keeping your eyes firmly shut, willing the world to spinning like a top. "I don't think I drank more than half a glass when I got back from the bathroom, anyway."

"Of course it's my fault. You got roofied, right in front of me. Jesus, I'm such an asshole. Let me at least take you to a doctor—"

You nearly sobbed from exhaustion, from the experience of being drugged and the fact you couldn't go to any sort of authority figure without possibly placing your friends in danger. If you went to the cops, or the hospital, or any place like that with Josh possibly stalking you? He might see it as a threat to himself. Or to the Hand.

"No, Foggy. I… I can't, okay?"

Something in your tone must have convinced him, because his tone was gentle as he said, "Let me at least call someone you trust. Let me at least do that for you."

"Okay," you agreed in a shaky voice, on the verge of tears as you tried not to think about the look on Danny's face when he found out what had happened. Would he yell at you for being so irresponsible and childish? And Ward… what would he think?

 _He'd probably sneer at you and tell you what a pathetic human being you are._ Your fists tightened against your temples at the thought, and you had to work hard to keep from sobbing aloud.

You heard Foggy shuffle around in your purse, probably having to navigate around your shoes, and you heard a pause as he powered up the device. Another minute passed by, in which you focused on breathing and not gagging, when you heard Foggy's sharp intake of breath.

"Looks like someone's worried about you. You have five missed calls and seven unanswered texts from…" Foggy went silent long enough for you to look up at him. His face was frozen and an unhealthy shade of green, though that could have been from the poor lighting from the overhead street lamp.

"Foggy?" you asked in a voice as creaky as an old, neglected hinge.

"Um. These names. Danny. Ward. These wouldn't be… Daniel Rand and Ward Meachum of Rand Enterprises, would they?"

You frowned at him, squinting to keep him focused as your eyesight remained blurred and treasonous.

"Yeah. Why?"

"They're… friends of yours?" Foggy's voice rose an octave, and you couldn't puzzle out the reason why he would have the look of someone who wanted to suddenly fling themselves in front of a bus.

"Since we were kids," you responded as you rubbed the side of your face. "Foggy, what's wrong? I don't understand."

"Oh, nothing's wrong. I just helped a close friend of my boss' biggest client get roofied by a sexual predator at a shady bar. It's fine. I'm sure Jeri won't toss me from the fiftieth floor or anything like that."

Despite his slightly panicked tone, he was already pulling your phone to his face as the call was connected. Your gut twisted with guilt, adding on top of your already established nausea, and you were sure you would throw up again if there was anything left to expel.

The phone call was answered immediately, and Foggy didn't even have time to speak before you heard a distant and panicked voice on the other side.

"Hi, um, is this Daniel Rand?... Yes, (Y/N) is right here. She's… she's not doing too well. Is there a chance you can come pick her up?... Franklin Nelson… I work for Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz… Oh. Um… well, we're on retainer with Rand as… Yes… Um, funny story, that…"

You were able to easily imagine what was happening from the other end of the conversation. First panic, then worry, then confusion as Danny probably had no idea who Foggy was or how he knew Danny's company. It was just so… _Danny_. And it would have made you smile if you weren't shaking with something that seemed to be approaching a panic attack.

"We did a bit of drinking at Josie's, and I offered to walk (Y/N) home, and I think… I think someone slipped something into her drink, she's very ill… Can you?... Yeah, of course." Foggy looked up, squinting as he tried to eye the street sign down the road. "We're on 48th Street, coming up on Ninth Ave, I think. Yep… sure, no prob. I won't move an inch, I swear." You had to admire Foggy's bravery, especially given how Danny was probably not handling the situation well. Not that you could blame him. Having a stranger calling from your phone to tell him you were nearly black-out drunk and drugged had probably come as an unpleasant shock.

Foggy hung up the phone, released a long gust of air, and said, "He's on his way."

"Thank you, Foggy," you responded gratefully as you stared up at him. "Danny probably isn't too happy right about now, so… I really appreciate it."

The blond man gave you a soft smile and said, "He sounded worried, if anything. From what I've heard, he's a pretty decent guy."

"He is," you responded with a shaky smile that was too close to a grimace. "He's more than decent. Danny—"

You never finished your sentence. A face loomed out of the darkness behind Foggy, pale and long and terrifying.

 _He came for me. He's here to kill me,_ was your sole thought as Josh's face floated into view, and you only had time enough to scream before the demon descended.

 _"Foggy!"_

The attorney didn't stand a chance. He was struck from behind, causing him to fall onto his knees. The creature stood over Foggy, his hands balled into fists, and you realized it wasn't Josh – it was the man from the bar who had harassed and drugged you.

You were frozen in horror, unable to believe what was happening. And then the man descended on Foggy, knocking him to the ground and pummeling his sides with violent fury.

"Foggy!" you cried again, leaping to your feet and onto the attacker's back. He shoved you off, spun around, and struck you so hard across the face with the back of his hand that you actually saw stars. You stumbled backwards, hitting the railing of the stoop you had been previously occupying, stunned as you felt something warm trickle from your mouth.

The man turned back to Foggy, but somehow the lawyer had gained his feet during the brief distraction. Before he could react, Foggy's fist flew through the darkness, slamming into his jaw. He cursed loudly and punched Foggy in the gut, hard, causing him to collapse once again with a look of agony on his pale face.

That, more than anything, got you back on your feet. You were still woozy and shaky, but the adrenaline made you feel as if you were on fire as you shouted, _"Leave him alone!"_

The man jerked his face toward you, fist balled as he prepared to descend on you, but he never got the chance. You swung your purse around as hard as you could and slammed it into his face. You heard a loud crack as blood spurted from his nose, and you belatedly remembered you had left your heels in your purse.

The attacker howled in pain as he held his gushing nose, and you fumbled in your purse for the other weapon you possessed.

"I'm going to kill you, fucking _bitch!"_ the man roared as he descended on you, his eyes wide and bloodshot and not entirely stable. You backed into the railing again, fumbling faster in your purse, but your hand gripped the metal cylinder and you felt a cold rush of triumph.

 _"Aaahhh!"_ the man screamed in agony as you lifted the canister and emptied a stream of pepper spray directly into his raw face. He staggered toward you, hands outstretched, and you whimpered in fear as you were now cornered on the stoop, the railing on either side boxing you in.

And then he was gone.

You gaped, open-mouthed, as what looked like an _actual_ demon grabbed the man by the back of his shirt, dragging him away from you and delivering one, two, three quick punches into the man's face. He went down like a sack of stones and didn't move again.

And all you could do was stare.

"Are you alright?" the devil asked, his breath even and calm despite the fact he had just swiftly and viciously knocked a man unconscious. You had a hand over your mouth as you tried not to simultaneously cry and breathe in the eye-watering chemicals of the pepper spray.

"Pull your shirt up over your mouth. It helps make it easier to breathe," the man in the maroon mask stated smoothly, and you did as he said, still staring at him numbly while wondering if he was some sort of drug-induced hallucination.

"Is my friend okay?" You could barely see two feet in front of you, probably from both the effects of the drug and the fact you'd been struck across the face. The man looked over at Foggy, and you were surprised to see Foggy staring up at him with a mixture of annoyance and gratitude.

"I'm fine," Foggy responded briskly, coughing as he tried to get to his feet. The masked vigilante walked over to him, began to grab his arm in an attempt to help, but Foggy actually shook him off as he growled, "I'm _fine_ , goddammit!"

The masked man just stared at him (or you assumed that's what he was doing with his eyes obscured), and he muttered, "Of course you are." And with that cryptic statement, he turned and retreated down the nearby adjacent alley. They darkness enveloped him like a living thing. You took a few shaky steps into the alley, but he was gone. Vanished, just like that.

"Was that…?" you trailed off, slowly looking back to Foggy as he brushed off his dirtied suit.

"Yeah."

"Did he just…?"

"Uh-huh."

"Wow," you responded breathlessly, finding yourself actually star-struck. "I can't believe the Devil of Hell's Kitchen just saved us."

Foggy snorted, groaned as he rubbed his ribs and responded in a tight voice, "Well, we _are_ in Hell's Kitchen. Would not have pegged you for a fangirl, though." Foggy coughed again and held the back of his hand up to his face as he stared down at the unconscious assailant on the ground.

"I guess we should wait for the cops to get here. I'm sure someone called by now. We'll have to give our statements and—hey!" Foggy called out to you when you turned and began to walk away, steadier now that adrenaline had brought you back to your senses, but shakier as well from the fact you were running on fumes and your body was in a state of semi-shock.

"No… no police," you stammered as Foggy grabbed your arm, stopping you and turning you around to face him.

"No cops. No hospitals." He met your eye with a stern gaze, and you didn't have the energy to look away from him. "If I didn't know any better, and frankly that's a convincing notion to begin with, I would say you were in trouble."

You licked your dry lips and winced as you tasted blood, feeling the split that bisected your bottom lip. If Danny and Ward didn't put you under house arrest before, they sure as hell would now.

 _Oh, God. Danny… Ward…_

Foggy opened his mouth to speak again, his hand still on your arm, when a set of headlights washed over the both of you. You raised a hand to shield your eyes from the brightness. Foggy did the same, releasing your arm as a car pulled up to the curb. You expected to see the sleek beast that Danny used as transportation, but instead it was a classy and practical silver Mercedes Benz.

"Ward?" you questioned under your breath, disbelieving. Sure enough: the driver's side door opened before the car was barely in park, and Ward stepped out, looking as darkly elegant as usual in his three-piece suit. The passenger side opened in a rush, and Danny was by your side faster than you would have thought possible.

"(Y/N)! What happened?" Danny turned to Foggy before you could answer, his expression furious as he reiterated with a growl, _"What happened?"_

"Whoa, hey! I'm on your side," Foggy asserted with his palms up in a defensive position as Danny practically got in his face.

"Danny, stop! Foggy's a friend." Your voice was shaking and uneven, and you sounded on the verge of tears. Probably because you were. "We're fine now. Really."

"You're fine?" Danny asked with a bite, turning his heated gaze back on you. "You're _fine_? You disappear for hours! No word on where you were or if you were in trouble. And then I get a call from a stranger saying you've been drugged, and then we show up and you're both _bloody and beaten—"_

"Danny."

Your blond friend went silent as a hand clasped the top of his shoulder, cutting him short as Ward pulled him away.

"Danny, you need to calm down. Take a breath."

"I am calm. I'm _perfectly calm."_

"Good. Go be calm in the car, then."

Danny glared up at Ward, and the height difference might have been comical on any other day. As it was, you were biting your split lip in an attempt to keep from bawling your eyes out, ignoring the irony taste of blood in your mouth. You were exhausted, sick, and feeling as if you were the most horrible person in existence.

Thankfully, Danny obeyed as he turned, shoulders tight with tension, not looking back as he opened the door, got inside, and slammed it with angry force.

Ward sighed, rubbed the span of his forehead with one hand, and turned back to both you and Foggy. Foggy looked about as miserable as you felt, probably expecting Ward to unleash hell with his razor-sharp tongue.

"That means the two of you as well. Get in the car," Ward finally said after glancing between you and Foggy, his expression blank and unreadable. You blinked in surprise, having thought Ward would demand that you explain yourselves. You looked sideways at Foggy, and by the look on his face, he was thinking the same thing.

"Unless you want to stay here all night and explain to the cops why there's an unconscious man on the street behind you, then by all means. Stay where you are."

You blanched at his words. So Ward _had_ noticed the souvenir that Daredevil had left behind. You'd hoped the street had been too dark for that, but apparently not.

Wordlessly, you limped toward the car. Your abused body protested in pain, but not enough to keep you from glancing up at Ward. The immutable look on his face slightly shifted, and you thought for a moment he was going to reach out to you. But then Foggy's hand was under your arm as he steadied you, walking you the rest of the distance even though he wasn't in much better shape himself. You gave him a small grateful smile, but you didn't miss the way Ward's expression closed once more.


	15. Chapter 15

You sat on Danny's huge sofa in the open living room, hands pressed flat between your knees as if you were a child waiting to be grounded by infuriated parents after sneaking out for the night.

The car ride back to the loft had been tense; you and Foggy occupying the back seat while Ward and Danny sat in front. Ward had been at the wheel with his long fingers curled tightly around the wheel. Danny stared out of the passenger side window with tension in his body, fingers drumming against his thigh.

Once it had been established you weren't going to pass out (the earlier vomiting had probably been your saving grace to purge whatever had been slipped into your drink), Ward tersely commented that on the drive back to Danny's, both you and Foggy would explain what had happened.

You fumed at his words and tone of voice ( _I'm not a kid, why is he treating me like one!),_ but considering how your night could have ended up much worse, you didn't think you had room to complain. Even trying to contemplate what would have happened if Foggy hadn't befriended you at the bar made you want to curl in on yourself and disappear.

The tale was mostly recounted from Foggy, as a pounding headache had settled behind your temples. By the set of Ward's jaw and Danny's outright scowl, you had worried them a lot more than you would have thought possible. Sure, turning your phone off had been pretty rude, but you'd only been gone for a few hours. Why had Danny been so freaked out?

And now here you were, trying to avoid eye contact as Danny spoke somberly with Foggy on the other side of the room. At least he wasn't shouting anymore, but the expression on his face when he glanced in your direction was one of deep upset. Foggy, on the other hand, looked at you with muted worry, one of his hands held against his ribcage.

In the backseat of the car, you had told him that Ward would drop him off at the hospital if he wanted, and Foggy had made a weak joke about how his "extra padding" had kept him from receiving any serious damage. Your response had been to give him an even more worried look, forcing him to assure you that he really was okay. Nothing broken or cracked. _Probably._

You leaned back against the couch cushions, exhaustion getting the better of you as you closed your eyes. The headache was in full swing now, and you could actually feel the pulsating beat behind your eyes. All you wanted to do was sleep. Or just stop existing. That was good too.

There was one member of the party conspicuously absent. You weren't sure where Ward had gone – as soon as you'd walked through the door, he had vanished. Maybe he had had enough of your bullshit for one evening.

The mystery was answered as you felt the cushions dip, and you blearily blinked at the tall, dark-haired man now sitting next to you. He was holding a towel and a tube of something in his hands, and you could only stare at him in an uncomprehending daze.

"Turn towards me," Ward instructed, and you almost winced at the mechanical nature of his voice. Gone was the warmth and teasing affection of the previous evening. Ward and Danny showed their emotions in vastly different manners, but there was little doubt they were both extremely unhappy with you.

You obeyed, sitting up far enough so you could face him while avoiding his darkened gaze. You focused instead on his hands, realizing the tube he held was a small bottle of Neosporin. He raised the towel toward your face. Before you could stop yourself, you flinched away from him.

"Sorry," you muttered, cheeks heating with embarrassment at your overblown reaction.

"It's okay," Ward responded, a bit more life in his voice. You weren't quite brave enough yet to look him in the eyes.

Ward brought the towel to your face again, and this time you remained completely still. Even as he dabbed the cool, wet material against your split lip, you didn't move. Your bottom lip was swollen, hot, and tender, and the cold cloth was a balm against your skin. It felt _so_ good that you closed your eyes after a moment, the stinging pain mixing with the soothing pleasure to create a confusing and befuddled sensation in your still-inebriated head.

"Open your mouth."

You opened your eyes instead, blinking owlishly at him.

"Huh?"

Ward's jaw flexed as he sighed through his nose. You took his annoyance as a good sign, that perhaps he still cared, and maybe he didn't totally hate you just yet. "Open your mouth. I need to clean the entire wound."

"Oh."

Parting your lips just enough for him to have access to the full injury, you made the drastic mistake of making eye contact as the cloth touched your skin. Ward was staring right back at you, and it was probably your altered conscious that was playing tricks on you, because you could have sworn the Adam's apple in his throat moved as he pressed his lips together.

You also blamed the lingering chemicals for turning what was a simple wound-cleaning procedure into something almost sensual. Ward, slowly and gently, pressed the towel against your lip, slightly widening your mouth as he did so. You continued to watch him, even after he quickly broke eye contact with you. If you didn't know better, you would have guessed he was uncomfortable with meeting your gaze. Most likely it was from the disappointment he was no doubt feeling in regards to your poor decision-making that evening.

Closing your eyes again (to hide more than anything else), you focused on the pleasant sensation as Ward continued to dab at your split lip. It hurt less than you would have thought, though that easily could have been through the vodka and whiskey still in your system.

In fact, it felt so nice you nearly made a noise of pleasure as he finished cleaning the wound. Thankfully, you were able to hold yourself back and not make a peep. At least, until the damp towel was replaced with a new experience – Ward's finger smeared in cool ointment moving against your torn skin.

The moan that escaped your lips wasn't loud and probably didn't go beyond the couch, but you still felt the heat rush to your cheeks, horrified.

Ward paused.

"Am I hurting you?"

"N-no," you responded weakly, keeping your eyes closed. Otherwise, you were pretty sure you would die of embarrassment if you had to meet his gaze at this point. "Keep going. It's fine."

Despite your assurances that you weren't in pain, Ward's contact against your skin was much lighter this time, and you felt a flush of nerves shoot through your gut that had absolutely nothing to do with alcohol or battle wounds.

After a moment in which you remained silent, Ward spoke in a voice that held a hint of amusement to it.

"Your outfit is ridiculous."

You started to snort with startled laughter and immediately winced and opened your eyes as your bottom lip stretched in sharp pain.

"Hold still or I'm going to have to redo it," Ward scolded you with a deep rumble, and you had to fight to keep your lips in a relaxed position rather than the absurd smile they wanted to form at Ward's long-suffering attitude.

"Issh not ridiculissh," you tried to say (despite the fact you secretly agreed with him) as he continued to rub ointment on you lip. Ward sighed again and growled:

"No talking either."

You rolled your eyes and made a noise part acquiescence, part protest, and you thought you saw the corner of Ward's mouth twitch.

Ward finished dressing your wound, and you were surprised he hadn't started in on you, telling you off for your self-destructive behavior earlier that night. Instead, he examined his handiwork for a moment, gently pulling down on your chin with his thumb. A small, panicked part of you wondered if he knew what he was doing and how it was affecting you.

"It shouldn't require stiches if you take it slow and don't do anything _too_ idiotic."

Ah, there it was. Going too long without hearing Ward's sarcastic, biting humor had begun to worry you.

"Thank you, Ward," you responded with an aborted smile, wincing as you felt your lip start to stretch from the movement.

"Sure," Ward said with a quick, close-lipped smirk that made you narrow your eyes in suspicion. He _did_ know what he was doing. But all thoughts of Ward (possibly? Maybe?) flirting with you were shoved aside as Foggy approached. Danny followed with a stony look on his face.

"How you feeling, superhero?" the blond-haired attorney asked with a lopsided smile, and shook your head (immediately regretted from the pounding in your skull). "Ah, don't deny it. You saved my life back there with your quick-thinking, purse-bludgeon action."

"I don't think I'm going to be a moonlighting vigilante anytime soon." You tried to return the smile and hissed through your teeth, gingerly touching your lip. "Damnit, I need to stop doing that."

Ward twisted the cap back on the tube of antibacterial ointment with an almost jerky motion, picked up the bloodied towel, stood from the couch and left the living room. Foggy raised his eyebrows as he watched Ward leave, but he didn't comment on his abrupt departure.

"Well, if you're doing okay, I'm going to go ahead and head out. Expect to hear from me over the next couple days so we can get that restraining order written up, yeah?" The smile on Foggy's face was infectious, despite the fact he had a blossoming bruise around one eye.

 _"I'm_ fine. What about _you?"_ you asked as you tried to keep a straight face, not wanting to make your lip bleed again from moving it. "You really should see a doctor."

"Oh, this? This is nothing," Foggy responded with false cheer. You gave him an extremely unhappy glare that forced him to put up his hands in surrender as he added, "I'll get checked out by a medical professional if you do the same. Deal?"

You continued to glare at him. Danny had remained silent during the entire exchange. In fact, he wasn't even facing you, having turned toward the massive bay windows as he stared out over the nightlife with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Fine."

"Really?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth as you pretended to droop your shoulders in defeat. "I'll go to a doctor tomorrow." There was no way in hell you were going near any sort of authority figure. Not until you were out of Danny's apartment and your friends were at a safe distance from you.

If half the things Josh had told you about the Hand were true, they would be watching you for signs of betrayal. You decided you had to be more careful moving forward, if for Danny's and Ward's sake than your own.

"Good! Good," Foggy nodded sagely with a smile. He sent a glance in Danny's stoic direction before looking back to you. "In that case, if you're really okay, then… I'll call you soon. Maybe get lunch."

"I'd love that." The smile you gave Foggy was immediately regretted as your lip sang its melody of agony. "Oh, come on," you winced as you touched your throbbing lip, as if that would somehow make it all better.

"Take it easy tomorrow, okay?" he responded with a softer tone and an earnest face. It was amazing how fast the blond lawyer could go from cheesy, cheery smartass to sweet and concerned friend. And you definitely considered him a friend at this point. One doesn't survive assault by an angry misogynist at the bar and not come out the other side as good friends.

"Shouldn't be a problem. Considering I no longer have a job, I figure I can take the day off." You saw Danny's shoulders stiffen. _Fuck._ You had forgotten Danny didn't know yet about your recent and abrupt firing.

"Sounds like a plan," Foggy responded cheerily, completely ignorant of Danny's sudden shift. "Let me know if you change your mind about that dick-bag former boss of yours. I'd be happy to drag his ass through court. Tort law was my specialty, after all."

"I'll think about it," you responded with a closed-mouth smile that didn't hurt as bad. You didn't really want to seek legal action against Travis, but from the tightness in Danny's jaw, it would be best to get Foggy on his way.

You stood up from the couch, proud of yourself for not wobbling too much, and moved forward to give Foggy an impromptu – but much needed – hug. He returned the gesture enthusiastically, even though it must have hurt his ribs.

"Thank you for everything, Foggy." You released him first, troubles temporarily forgotten as he gave you a gentle, beaming smile. "I meant what I said: you're a saint."

"Stop it, you. I have a legal limit for how many times a beautiful woman can make me blush in one night." As if remembering where he was and the company he was with, Foggy glanced sideways at Danny and smiled awkwardly.

"I called a car for you, Mr. Nelson. It will be waiting for you downstairs by the time you reach the ground level."

Ward's stiff, formal tone drew your attention. He stood at the edge of the room near the hallway to the front door, looked like he was about to give a presentation at a board meeting. His hands were clasped together in front of him as he gave Foggy a rather intimidating stare.

"Oh, uh. Yeah. Thanks. Thank you, Mr. Meachum." Foggy's response was endearingly awkward, and he gave one last look to Danny as he added, "And, uh. Thank you for not firing me, Mr. Rand."

That made the tension loosen from Danny's body language, and he turned to face Foggy. You could tell he was still unhappy, but he gave the attorney a close-mouthed smile regardless.

"Thank you for making sure (Y/N) got back safely."

"Ah, she didn't need me for that," Foggy said with a self-deprecating smile. "She's tough as hell, and tougher than she knows," the blond attorney added with a charming wink in your direction. Now you really _did_ full-on blush, right up to your hairline and around to your ears. Flirting with Foggy in a bar was one thing – having him do the whole Casanova thing in front of Ward and Danny was enough to set your face on fire.

Still, you did appreciate the confidence he had in you.

"Goodnight, Foggy," you called after him as he walked past Ward to the exit. He responded in turn, giving you a small wave, and then he was out the door.

It had barely clicked shut upon Foggy's exit before Danny rounded on you, clear blue eyes narrowed into angry, icy slits.

 _"What were you thinking?"_ he hissed through his teeth.

"I was _thinking_ I would have a few beers after being unfairly and unjustly fired from my job," you snapped in return, figurative hackles raised. Ward moved toward the center of the room from where he had been standing near the periphery. You had to wonder if it was because Danny was more furious than you had ever seen him.

"How could you be so reckless and stupid?" he accused, fists clenched at his sides.

 _"Excuse_ me?" What was _wrong_ with him? He had never spoken to you like that before, and you sure as hell wouldn't let it fly now. "I went out for a few hours and didn't call you back, so what? Jesus Christ, you're not my father, Danny!"

You were standing inches from Danny, head pounding and stomach churning while the room spun for a moment in frightening vertigo. But you shook it off, focusing on Danny's livid expression. Ward had moved closer, but he didn't seem to share Danny's intense emotions. Instead, he stared at his business partner with concerned intensity. You knew he was going to step in soon, but you didn't want him to.

"Your ex-boyfriend literally _attacked_ you, not even a day earlier, and then you disappear for hours. Your texts abruptly stopped, and then when I tried to call you, it went to voicemail!" His gestures were agitated as he spoke, his expression still formed into hot anger, but his voice was beginning to be shaped by pain and fear. "We called the café, but they said you weren't there, and no one had seen you since after your shift."

Something sharp and spiny twisted in your gut.

"You could have been abducted. You could have been _killed_. We had no way of knowing where you were or what had happened to you."

Danny dropped his hands now, limp against his thighs as he stared at you with but an echo of the anger. Replaced by bright pain and worry.

"We thought… I thought…"

Whatever Danny was going to say next, you didn't hear. It was too much. The guilt, the fear, the previous rush of adrenaline from believing, for a brief instant, that you and Foggy were going to die. The room began to spin, and you raised a hand to your mouth as if that would stabilize you. Tears stung your eyes to the point where Danny and Ward blurred into light and dark shapes.

You didn't know who grabbed you first, but you felt a pair of strong arms envelope you before your legs could give out. You tried to remain upright, but your limbs had become deadweights and your head felt so heavy. Everything was soft and fading together, until they became absolutely nothing at all.


	16. Chapter 16

The sudden fainting spell hadn't been nearly as dramatic as it first appeared. You had lost consciousness for maybe ten seconds, but in that time Ward was halfway out the door with you in his arms. You thrashed back to life as the very-real terror of being taken to the hospital forced you into blinding awareness.

 _"Put me down! Put me down!"_

Ward cursed in surprise as he nearly dropped you, and cursed again as you continued to buck and flail.

"(Y/N), stop!"

Danny's voice this time. You saw the blond appear near Ward's elbow, reaching a hand out to place it on the crook of your shoulder. You immediately ceased your struggles, now staring up at Danny with a panicked expression you couldn't hide.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you pleaded. Your heart felt like it had lodged itself in your throat as it fluttered its rapid beat with all the ferocious terror of a trapped animal. "Please."

"You're _not_ fine," Ward practically growled, drawing your attention up to his face and the veritable scowl there. Any other time you would have been the color of a tomato from being held in Ward's ridiculously firm arms. Being under the effects of nauseating terror kind of ruined a situation that might otherwise have been very pleasant.

"I am!" you protested urgently, afraid he would start walking down the hallway again. The door was only a few feet behind him. You yearned to return to the safety of Danny's apartment, where you were relatively safe from what possibly awaited you out in the darkness. Because Danny had been right: you had been stupid, and you had put yourself in danger. Danny had only been wrong about the source.

 _Once you join the Hand, you never leave. They own you: mind, body, and soul. And now, you know too._

Recalling Josh's words made you cling tightly to Ward's jacket, your voice small as you said: "Please… I just need to lie down. I don't need a doctor. I swear I'm feeling better."

"You passed out, for Christ's sake," Ward argued back, not buying your excuses for a second. "You're obviously _not_ fine, and we should have taken you to the hospital to begin with."

Since Ward was obviously a no-go, you looked to Danny instead. Pleading for all of your worth.

"Look, earlier I threw up whatever that guy slipped into my drink. I haven't had anything in my stomach besides alcohol for the past ten hours. So yeah, I fainted for a few seconds. I'm still a bit drunk and probably dehydrated, but it's not life-threatening. It's not a big deal."

You expected Danny to shake his head and agree with Ward about taking you to a hospital. Instead, a thoughtful frown formed on his face as he looked up at Ward.

"It… might be best if (Y/N) remained here."

Ward was silent for a moment, probably in as much shock as you were by Danny's words.

"Danny… are you _serious?"_ Ward asked, tone incredulous. And then, something strange happened. Danny glanced down at your face, then up to Ward again. He raised his eyebrows slightly, as if to tell Ward something he didn't want you to catch. But you did, of course, because Danny was a terrible liar and always had been.

"Fluids and rest would be just as beneficial, if not more so, than taking her to the ER. We would have to wait for hours before a doctor can see her, anyway."

Though mystified at Danny's reaction, you silently thanked him with a look when he glanced back at you. He offered a half-hearted smile in return.

"Fine. _Fine._ But if you pass out again," Ward glared down at you before you could express relief, "I'm going to throw you over my shoulder and bodily haul you to the hospital, no matter how much you kick and scream if you wake up. Got it?"

"Yep, got it," you nodded weakly in response. Ward set your feet down on the ground, slowly and gently. You had no doubt he was making you walk in order to prove you were incapable of it. But you found you were able to remain on your feet, and your balance was only a little precarious.

"See?" You wobbled slightly while giving a similarly shaky smile. "Nothing to it."

Ward gave you the most dubious expression in the history of dubious expressions. Danny, bless him, decided to put his arm under yours in order to help you walk back into his apartment after he unlocked the door.

"But, seriously," Danny confided in a low voice, "if you feel the need to go to the hospital, we'll take you in a heartbeat. Okay?"

"Thank you, Danny." You didn't like how much you had to lean on his arm. Your legs had decided to become part-time wet noodles, but you made it back inside Danny's apartment without falling. Excellent progress, in your opinion.

You looked over your shoulder as you heard the door click several seconds after you'd passed through it. Ward had followed you both across the threshold, and you caught the worried look on his face before he could smooth it over like he would a wrinkled sleeve.

"You need me to stay the night?" he asked gruffly. You weren't sure if the question was meant for you or Danny.

"I should be fine," you interjected before Danny could answer. Your face reddened slightly. It wasn't that you didn't _want_ Ward to stay the night (hell, let's be honest, you really did). But you felt you had caused enough trouble, and the knowledge of Ward tossing and turning while sleeping in discomfort, on your behalf, was not something you needed on your mind.

And, as always, the Hand was a growing darkness at the back of your thoughts. You couldn't keep Danny from the risk, not while you stayed in his apartment. But you could minimize the risk to Ward. Even if the idea of eventually pushing away your only two friends was more painful than you could ever imagine.

"All right," Ward answered with a tone that almost seemed… disappointed? "Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks, Ward," Danny responded, arm still on yours. "See you tomorrow."

The dark-haired CEO gave a single nod, and fixed you with one last stare of unhappiness before retreating out the door. It left you feeling oddly empty.

You accepted the glass of water Danny offered to you, but declined any real sustenance. The thought of eating was enough to make your stomach churn resentfully. So you headed to the bedroom (thank God you didn't need Danny to help you undress) and crawled under the covers, feeling like some poor creature retreating under a rock to die. A part of you wondered if it's what you deserved.

* * *

You weren't sure how long you slept when your eyes sprang open, a mini-earthquake erupting in your stomach. Leaping from the bed, you ran into the bathroom and flung the toilet lid upward just in time.

After your stomach stopped spasming, you sat back on the bathroom floor and mentally berated yourself. You had been an _idiot_ earlier tonight. Danny had been right. And worse, you had been reckless with the lives of your friends, putting them at risk. Ward. Danny. Hell, even Foggy might now be on the Hand's radar. You should have realized the danger after it was clear Josh wouldn't leave you alone. What would his employers do after they found out you were aware of their existence? Josh certainly wouldn't keep your forbidden knowledge a secret – not now that you had left him.

 _I won't let them hurt you. As long as you're with me, you're safe._

You moaned in agony, squeezing your eyes shut and you pressed your fists against the sides of your head. Then another wave of nausea hit you, and you were once more bent over the rim of the toilet bowl, emptying the pitiful contents of your stomach.

But this time, when you came up for air, you weren't alone. Danny was right there beside you; a hand on your back as he helped pull back your hair from your sweaty face. His brows were furrowed in concern, and his eyes were gentler than you deserved.

"I, uh… I could hear you from the living room. Thought you might want some company," he said in a quiet voice that matched his expression. "Do you want me to take you to see a doctor?"

"No. No. I'm okay. Just… thirsty," you choked out, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. It came out smeared with red. "Oh, dammit."

"I got it," Danny responded, grabbing a clean washcloth and rinsing it with cold water in the sink before handing it to you. You pressed the damp cloth to your face and closed your eyes, sighing at the temporary reprieve from pain.

"Thanks, Danny. I'm just… I'm so sorry. I've been nothing… nothing for trouble for you since I got here," you managed to say between steadying breaths.

When you didn't receive a reply, you opened your eyes to find Danny smiling at you with such a gentle expression you had to blush. Sometimes his smiles were _too much_ , almost like the morning sunlight: beautiful but blinding. Even Foggy's beaming smiles held a hint of his sharp humor. But Danny was just so… pure and good that you felt almost sullied in comparison.

"(Y/N)... Having you here has been…" Danny struggled with the words, and you felt your stomach roil again, this time from nerves. "Let's just say, this is the happiest I've been since I came back to New York."

You stared at him.

"Has New York been _that_ bad?"

Danny gave a small laugh, shaking his curly blond head as he said, "It hasn't been great, but it wasn't all terrible. Why do you ask?"

"You're sitting on your bathroom floor while your friend vomits her guts out. Clue me as to where the 'happiness' part comes in."

Danny took your free hand in his. Your eyes must have been comically round at that point, and you held the cloth tighter against your face.

"Knowing all this… obscene wealth," he made a small gesture to indicate the bathroom, "is actually helping someone I care about? Plus, getting to spend time with you? Yes. It has brought joy to my life."

You weren't sure Danny could understand the words he was saying and the impact they would have on you, but your cheeks were furiously heated now.

"Even after tonight? You still… want me here?" you asked, trying to will away the stupid blush.

"Of course." Danny's eyebrows creased together. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I… you know…"

"Had unfortunate circumstances beyond your control happen to you?"

"Because I ignored your messages," you responded while averting your eyes. "I wanted to text you back and answer your phone call. I just... I don't know why I didn't. I owe you an explanation, and I don't have one."

"Hey," Danny said, drawing your attention back to him as you met his eye. "You have no obligation to return my messages or phone calls. You don't owe me anything. You were right; I'm not your guardian." Your friend looked down, his hand still holding yours, his thumb gently rubbing against the back of your hand. "Yes, I was worried about you, but I handled my fear without grace or mindfulness. I disrespected you, and for that I am truly sorry."

"Danny…" You paused, flustered and completely unarmed by his sweetness.

"Your face is very flushed," Danny observed with a frown. "Do you have a fever?" He used his other hand to reach across the space between you, placing the back of it against your forehead as you tried not to combust into flames from his words and affection.

"I'm okay… Better, actually," you responded truthfully. Still, there was no explaining away the bright redness of your face without confessing how he was making you blush like a schoolgirl.

Danny made a noise of uncertainty, released your hand, and rose to his feet. You followed him with your eyes, the back of your head still leaning against the wall.

"W-where are you going?" you asked in a small, needy voice you immediately despised.

"Calling a friend," he answered with a half-smile that exposed his dimples. "I'm worried about you, and she's much better at this kind of thing than I am. Be right back."

You watched Danny go with a miserable expression on your face, but it wasn't like you could follow him. Your legs were weak and trembling as you stretched them out before you across the cool bathroom tile. It helped a little bit. You closed your eyes and waited for Danny's return, keeping the wet towel against your lip. The fibers were stained pink, but it seemed the bleeding had stopped for now.

You weren't sure how long Danny was gone for, but you'd dozed off by the time he re-entered the bathroom. Blinking up at him, you saw he brought a glass of water in one hand, a metal canister in the other.

"What's that?" your voice croaked from the abuse it had taken. Danny handed you the glass of water first, and you took it eagerly and nearly spilled it over yourself in the process.

"Take it easy," he told you softly, steadying the glass to make sure it didn't tip. You slowly edged the glass to your lip, wincing but taking a tentative sip. Then another. The cold liquid against your throat made you close your eyes and sigh in relief.

Once you had your fill, you looked up at Danny and thanked him, your voice less creaky. He smiled.

"Think you can stomach this?" Danny asked as he handed you the cold canister. You squinted your eyes as you read the label.

"…coconut water?"

"I was told you should drink something to replace your electrolytes, and, well… this is the closest thing I had to Gatorade."

"I can try, see if my stomach allows it," you responded. You tried to snap open the metal tab, but even that was too much. Danny took the can, popped it open, and handed it back to you. You gave him a small smile in thanks.

"She said you should be okay, and this is probably your body expelling the alcohol," Danny said as you took a tentative sip. The taste was sweeter than you thought, and you shut your eyes in preparation for your stomach to revolt. But it remained quiet for now. "She also said that we should take you to the ER if you don't get better. And that we probably should have listened to Ward and done so in the first place," Danny added with a sheepish rub to the back of his curly head.

"Your friend… knows Ward?" You felt a strange sensation in your stomach and assumed it was a reaction to the coconut water.

"Yeah. Well, sorta. More like… friendly acquaintances," Danny explained, without really explaining at all. He sat next to you, leaning his back against the wall. You wondered how he wasn't cold in his thin shirt, lounge pants, and bare feet. "Claire is a very talented nurse, as well as a trusted friend. We've had to call on her help before."

"Why?" you asked, taking a larger swallow of the coconut water. Maybe it was your imagination, but you were feeling more lucid. Which is probably why you questioned the validity of two rich men needing the services of a nurse friend. "You two aren't into like… some kind of secret Fight Club, are you?"

" _What?_ No, no, of course not. That's ridiculous."

You gave him a look. You were close enough that your shoulders were touching, so that helped give some weight to your forceful expression.

"Methinks the man doth protest too much," you responded evenly. Danny fixed you with a confused expression, and you rolled your eyes. "Never mind. As long as you and Ward aren't taking part in private fights because you get off on making people bleed."

Danny gave a laugh that seemed a little forced. "You have quite the imagination, (Y/N)."

"Uh-huh." You fixed him with that stare again, scrutinizing his face. Was it just you feeling sick, or was Danny hiding something?

"How are you feeling?" he asked, clearly distracting you from the topic. But the concern was genuine in his clear blue eyes, and you found your resolve disintegrating under his gaze.

"Better, actually. Thank you. You saved me once again, Danny." It was his turn to flush and look away, and your lips curved into a smile as you took another drink. Your lip didn't even hurt this time. You would have to compliment Ward on his nursing skills the next time you saw him.

Recalling your other friend to mind made your stomach clench unpleasantly again.

"I feel like I haven't done enough, actually." You took a closer look at Danny, nudging his shoulder when he refused to look your way. When he turned back to you, you said:

"I'm serious, Danny. You saved my life. If you hadn't taken me in… I don't know what I would have done." You understood, on an objective level, that you could have gone to a women's shelter for domestic victims. But you couldn't entertain the idea for more than a few seconds. Going to a place like that would feel like an admission of guilt – that you were a victim, and that's all you would ever be. If you went to one of those shelters, you would be just another faceless, voiceless, battered woman.

No, that wasn't you. It wasn't. Josh hadn't been that bad. You weren't one of those women. You _weren't._

"You would have survived," Danny responded, gently bumping your shoulder in return. "That's what you do. Mr. Nelson was right, you know. You're one of the strongest people I know. I mean it," he added when you began to shake your head, blushing again.

"If I was that kind of person, then…" You found you couldn't finish the sentence, your words stuck in your throat. Danny understood, and he reached an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer. You rested your head against his shoulder as he gave you a half-hug, warmth and affection flooding your chest.

"You're a wonderful, kind human being. You don't deserve what's happened to you. Trust me." His voice was so sure. Not a hint of uncertainty. You could almost believe him, if your heart wasn't so adamant on laying the blame on your head. "I've met a multitude of different types of people in my life, and you… to be honest, you outshine most of them."

Now your face was on fire again, and you were glad Danny couldn't see it. "Wow, Danny. You really know how to compliment a girl." You felt his muscles tense against you, his tone equally stiff.

"Oh, uh, was that… too forward? I didn't, um. I didn't mean to say something to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't. You're fine, Danny." You lifted your head from his shoulder, giving him a smile (with a lingering blush) to show you meant it. "You're very sweet, you know that?"

"I-I'm not… really… I screw up a lot… stick my foot in my mouth all the time. I've been told I can be quite the jackass," he added with a sheepish smile that made you laugh. You couldn't imagine Danny acting in a way that would make him deserve the title. Sure, Danny could be a bit intense sometimes, but that didn't make him a jackass.

"I don't believe that."

"It's the truth." But there was a smile on his face now too. Perhaps you had managed to salvage the evening you had so thoroughly wrecked.

"Well, it's not _my_ truth," you protested with a tilt of your head. "I know you, Danny Rand. Time and distance hasn't changed that. You're still the kind-hearted person I knew as a kid."

Danny's face shifted for a fraction of a second, allowing you to catch a glimpse of _something_ underneath. Then it was gone. He moved away from you and got to his feet, reaching a hand down to you with his smile somewhat dimmed.

"Think you can walk? I can carry you if you need—"

"Oh no, no I'm okay. I think." Actually, Danny presented a good question. _Could_ you walk? You set the can on the floor, gripped his hand, and managed to be pulled to your feet in one smooth motion. And you remained on your feet, so that was a promising sign. But Danny didn't guide you back to the bedroom, instead turning right toward the living room.

"Where are we going?" Danny had one arm across your back and hooked against your side, helping you walk down the hallway. "Not the hospital, right?" You were essentially trapped against Danny's side, but you were more than willing to put up a fight if he was taking you to the hospital.

"No. Not unless you want to go, or you get worse."

"Then… where?"

Danny gave a chuckle as he led you to his giant sofa – a piece of furniture you were already beginning to associate with happy memories. You relaxed against his hold.

"When I would get really sick as a kid, my mom would make a sort of sick bay right in the living room," he explained as he gently guided you onto its cushioned surface. You noted the loving tone he used, and it made your heart ache for his loss. "That way I never felt alone or isolated, and she could be there at my side as soon as I needed her. Is that… is that weird?" Danny added, his awkwardness obvious even in the dim moonlight streaming in through the curtains.

"I think it's wonderful," you responded while giving his forearm a gentle squeeze. "I just hope I don't ruin your very swanky couch by puking on it," you added with a nervous chuckle.

"And that is why we have barf buckets." Danny's bright smile seemed to light up the darkness, and you watched him turn and leave the living room, probably to retrieve said buckets. Waiting for his return, you pulled up your legs and stretched out along the couch, resting your head against the cushioned arm at one end. It was wide enough that two people could comfortably cuddle without fear of one of them falling off. And that thought conjured up an image of Ward, of all people. He had slept on Danny's couch in almost the exact same position you were in now.

You turned your head sideways and found yourself nuzzling against the material, half-expecting it to retain some lingering scent as a reminder of Ward's presence. But there was nothing there, and you immediately felt like a weird, creepy idiot for having tried in the first place. Yeah, sure, don't mind me, just sniffing my friend's couch because I'm missing my other friend and want some kind of reminder that he was ever here.

Danny didn't leave you alone for long; he returned with the glass of water in one hand, a bucket in the other, and a thick blanket tucked under his arm. He set the water down on the coffee table and the bucket beside the couch, before opening the blanket and spreading it wide across your prone form. You grinned up at him as he tucked the cloth around your shoulders, and he returned the expression full-force.

"Better?"

"Yes. Your mom was a genius." You internally winced, even though the subject of his mother had initially been broached by Danny. He gently smiled down at you to show he was fine, though there was a hint of sadness there. There probably always would be.

"I'll be just over there by the window if you need anything, okay? Just let me know."

"Danny, you can go back to your bed if you want. I'll be okay, really." You still felt guilty about hijacking his bedroom, and at least now he could return to it. Instead, he shook his curly blond head and laughed under his breath.

"My place by the window is all I need. And besides, I'm not… not used to sleeping alone." You raised your eyebrows at that, forcing him to clarify as he laughed sheepishly. "I mean, I shared a… I guess you could call it a dormitory, with other warriors-in-training."

"It must have been very lonely, coming to New York. Despite all the people here," you observed, rolling onto your side to stare up at him. He looked surprised, and his tone matched it.

"Yes. It was, actually. Really lonely."

You nodded. Loneliness in a city of millions – that was definitely something you could understand.

"Tell me more. About the place where you come from." Danny gave you gentle but chiding look.

"(Y/N), you should rest and gather your strength."

"Just… for a little while?" you pleaded as you looked up at him, immediately feeling like a child asking for a bedtime story. Danny sighed, but you saw the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He sat down on the edge of the sofa, and you didn't even have to make room for him the furniture was so large.

"K'un-Lun is… there's no other place like it on Earth. There wasn't just the monastery, but an entire city. Protected by the shade of an ancient tree, its shadow extending for miles…"

Listening to Danny's soothing, gentle voice, your eyelids grew heavier as comforting warmth filled your limbs and chest. Your last discerning thought before sleep claimed you: you wished it could always be like this, and nothing would ever change.


	17. Chapter 17

Soft fragments of voices pierced the veil of sleep, and you struggled to open your eyes. They remained stubbornly shut, and you drifted back down into the darkness, not emerging until sometime later. The sunlight was beaming bright through the curtains, and Danny was there before you had even stretched your cramped limbs.

He offered you a breakfast of saltine crackers, juice, and oatmeal, and refused to leave your side for most of the day. You felt a sort of selfish delight for having your friend all to yourself. The only thing that would improve your mood was if a certain sullen, dark-haired man in a suit also made an appearance. You asked Danny if that had been Ward you had heard talking this morning, and he said it was – checking to make sure you were okay. The knowledge made your cheeks flush in a pleasant way.

But Ward didn't appear that night. Or the following day. You understood on an objective level that had a company to run, especially since Danny was currently playing caretaker (even though you were basically back to normal). The respite had been a nice change from the nonstop stress of dealing with Josh, being temporarily homeless and then losing your job (and then being subsequently drugged at a seedy bar in Hell's Kitchen). You had been fired Monday night, and by the time Thursday morning came around you were getting a mild case of cabin fever. You had completed your Harry Potter marathon with Danny and no longer had wizards and dragons to distract you. Between worries of your ex, the Hand, and wondering if Ward was avoiding you on purpose, your anxieties were creeping back into the warning zone.

Which is why you insisted that Danny return to work. You needed to start picking up the pieces of your life, and you would feel guilty every time you would pick up your phone to start looking for apartments. It was clear to you how much Danny enjoyed your company, but you couldn't stay forever.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"I'll be more than okay, Danny. You've missed enough work because of me." _And I don't need to give Ward another reason to hate me_ , you added as a silent aside. "I promise I'll be fine on my own. I might even go out for a bit. Try to find another job." You omitted any mention of finding a new apartment. Those puppy-dog eyes of Danny's could unravel your resolve like a loose thread on a shirt.

"Oh. Really? Uh." Your blond friend shifted from one foot to another, suddenly looking like an overgrown kid wearing very expensive Hugo Boss. His jacket and pants were a beautiful winter grey, but you couldn't figure out what the deal was with the white tennis shoes. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

You made an extremely confused expression at him. "Um, yeah. Unless you want me living here forever, Danny. Mooching off you like a human leech."

"Would that be such a terrible thing?" Danny responded immediately and with full seriousness. You stared at him, thinking surely he had lost his mind. He rubbed the back of his head as he stared back at you helplessly, and you had to laugh at his expression.

"You're going to be late," you said with a grin. You grabbed his shoulders, turned him around, and began to herd him toward the door. "Go! Get out of here. I'll be _fine_ , stop being such a mother hen. And I'll text you. Lots of texts! So many texts you'll block my number and regret ever buying a phone."

Danny's genuine laughter remained with you after he had gone, but not for long enough. The absolute silence of the apartment began to feel stifling and painful against your ears, and you turned on the TV just to hear background noise as you browsed your phone. You were serious about finding a job and a new place to live. You didn't want to become a burden on Danny, whether or not he had the resources to support you. That just wasn't the kind of person you were. Maybe if you were a part of the Rand family, it would be different. But you weren't.

You hadn't realized you'd fallen asleep until you opened your eyes, sensing a presence from above. Ward was staring down at you.

 _"Ggrrphhg!"_ You made a gurgled noise of fright that kind of sounded like a fish drowning, if that were possible.

"Nice to see you too," Ward commented with a slight curl to his lip, apparently taking enjoyment from sneaking up on you.

As was inevitable while lying on your back while looking at your phone, you had eventually dozed off. It wasn't as if you had found anything useful – everything within the borough was insanely overpriced, and the jobs you actually had a chance at landing didn't offer livable wages. And then you had woken to the person you had hoped to see most. It was too bad you also had a string of drool dripping down the corner of your mouth. You hurriedly wiped it away and sat up, pushing your messy hair back from your face.

"When'd chh-you get here?" you asked with a slight slur. There was a definitely flush in your cheeks waking up to find Ward hovering over you, and you prayed he interpreted it as a result of sleep.

"Just now." He peered down at you, eyes slightly narrowed as he studied your face with an intensity that made you clench the blanket in your fingers. You hoped he didn't notice the involuntary movement. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Great. Back to normal." _And you would know that if you had come to visit_ , you added sullenly in your head.

"Wonderful. Up for an outing?"

"Huh?"

"I said," Ward said slowly, that smirk back on his face. "Are you willing to go on an errand with me?"

"What kind of errand?" you responded, tone loaded with suspicion. That half-smirk was still on his face, and the jury was still out on whether this was a good or bad development.

"Danny mentioned you needed to deposit your last paycheck. I thought I would accompany you to the bank." Ward's tone was innocent enough, but there was something in his eyes that seemed a bit too delighted. He was up to something. And the mention of Danny conjured up the discussion that morning. As soon as you had mentioned leaving the apartment, Danny had gone all wide-eyed, clearly approaching the horizon of panic. And then according to the clock on your phone, Ward had shown up two hours later.

That couldn't be a coincidence; they didn't want you to go off on your own. And after getting drunk and then drugged at a dive-bar, you couldn't exactly blame them for taking precautions. Totally unnecessary precautions that made you bristle at the implications that you couldn't be a responsible adult.

And then all resolve washed away at Ward's next words:

"I thought maybe we could go to lunch afterwards."

His tone was casual, nonchalant – portraying his aloofness like an actor on a stage. But you could see it meant something to him. What that thing could possibly mean, you had no idea. But if there was an opportunity for you to spend time with your other childhood friend, you were going to take it.

"Okay," you answered somewhat breathlessly. Ward didn't answer for a brief pause, apparently not expecting you to answer so readily and cooperatively.

"Okay. Great." He cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze as he stared down at his wine-colored tie. "I'll let you… get dressed then."

You glanced down at your sleepwear (lounge pants and a t-shirt), blushing at the fact it was nearly noon and you hadn't even dressed yet.

"Yeah, good idea. Wouldn't want to embarrass you in public, Mr. 'Hot 50 Entrepreneurs'." Your snarky comment got him to look up at you at least, and he crossed his arms across his chest as he shifted his weight.

"You've been reading up on me?" he accused, clearly entertained by the idea but attempting to play it off.

"No!" you protested a little too loudly as you moved away from the couch and backed toward the bedroom. "Nope. Never picked up a Profit Mag. Or the New York Bulletin. Not once. Even to check on the weather. By the way, you always have a constipated look on your face when you accept humanitarian awards."

For the second time in your adult life, you heard Ward Meachum laugh. Genuinely and fully. The act would light up his entire face, and he looked and sounded like an entirely different person. It was bizarre and wonderful all at once.

"Be right back. Don't leave without me," you added cheekily before shutting the bedroom door. You rushed and threw your clothes on in a hurry, excitement and nervousness swirling in your gut. You were going to lunch with _Ward_. Sure, you'd got a couple times with Danny since his return, but those had been awkward, distant encounters. More your fault than Danny's. But even then, it hadn't felt like a huge deal. Not like now.

You gave yourself once glance in the mirror, smoothing down your soft, low-cut shirt. It was the nicest piece of clothing you owned (which wasn't saying much), but it wasn't faded or had any holes in it, so you considered that a win. The worn jeans you couldn't do much about… but they did hug your hips and legs in an appealing way.

 _Yes, Ward is going to be_ so _impressed with your off-brand, second-hand, outdated wardrobe. You're really going to prove how much of a functional adult you are,_ you chided yourself. But there was nothing to be done about your low-brow fashion, and if history was anything to go by, Ward would accept you as you were. Possibly with mild teasing, but he never judged you for your lack of wealth. It was one of the many reasons you two, as unlikely as it seemed, had become friends.

After stalling for a couple more nerve-wracking minutes, you finally emerged from the bedroom. Ward was waiting for you near the entryway, in the process of putting his phone in his pocket at the sound of your footfalls. You would have bet your entire paltry paycheck that he had been contacting Danny. Your eyes narrowed as you stared at him while picking your purse up from the counter.

"Who was that?"

"Business colleague," Ward responded without missing a beat, opening the apartment door for you after you grabbed your purse.

"Does this colleague have curly blond hair and a puppy-face that could put real puppies to shame?" you asked as you passed him by. He snorted, but quickly rearranged his face into a more neutral expression as he turned to lock the door.

"An apt description of Danny, but no."

You frowned. You had been so sure it was Danny, but that frown was quickly vanished as Ward walked beside you down the hallway and the nervous excitement and anticipation returned to your stomach. Even if Danny and Ward were trying to play secret babysitter, you found you didn't really mind. If it meant you got to spend more time with both of them, then it might actually be a good thing. You knew you couldn't remain in their lives forever.

Pushing away the dreaded thought, you smiled up at Ward as you entered the elevator together. He gave you a dubious look.

"What?"

"Nothing," you responded sheepishly, looking away. The wood paneling of the elevator wall was a much safer object to examine than your ridiculously tall friend. "I'm just, kind of excited. It's just me and you. Like old times."

Ward gave another amused snort and said, "Right. You're not exactly the mud-covered child I remember from youth camp."

"And yet, you still wear that same surly expression you made when we snuck down to the river. Remember that?" You ventured a peek up at him and found he was rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"It's hard to forget when someone picks up a crawfish and shoves it in your face."

"I did not! I was just showing you our new friend!" you responded, totally scandalized. "And as I recall, you laughed about it after I released him back into the water."

"Laughed in abject terror, perhaps." Ward's sardonic reply followed as you exited the elevator ahead of him. You glanced over your shoulder to give him a look, and Ward rewarded you with a smile he was attempting to suppress. It filled you with happiness to see he wasn't quite succeeding.

The car ride was a little awkward at first, probably because you were so filled with nerves about getting to spend time with Ward that didn't involve you bleeding, puking, or crying. This could turn out to be a really good day – as long as you didn't find some way to fuck it up (which, knowing you, was a distinct possibility).

When Ward didn't pull up to your bank, you looked over at him with an eyebrow raised. "You missed the turn."

"I know," he responded slowly, his eyes focused on the road. "Thought we should eat first. If that's okay with you."

"Sure," you replied as you studied his face carefully. There was an undercurrent of tension there, leaving you to wonder why. The rest of the journey was silent, and you again had the sensation that Ward was keeping something from you. You were just about to turn to him and tell him to spit it out when he pulled up the curb, and you peered out the window to see a sign you hadn't viewed in years.

"Burton's Hoagies?" you asked with eyebrows raised. Not at all the place you expected Ward to take you for a meal. Sure, the four of you (Joy included) had gone there nearly every day as kids, but it wasn't exactly a place you could picture Ward patronizing now.

"We can go somewhere else," Ward responded almost immediately in a tone that surprised you. The normally confident CEO sounded uncertain, and on the verge of pulling the car away from the curb.

"No, no, this is perfect!" you said hurriedly, not wanting him to misinterpret your surprise. You loved this place, and remembered Ward had as well, and you could imagine he wouldn't have many opportunities to come here anymore.

"Good," he said in that awkward tone you were noticing more and more. Like he expected you to yell at him or something.

"Great," you responded, mimicking his stiff manner of speaking. You were rewarded with a slight curl to his lips as he gave you a look of long-suffering amusement. Hey, at least he was smiling and the troubled look on his face was gone.

After you went inside and ordered your sandwiches (and it was _really_ entertaining watching Ward in his $3000 suit ordering a $5 hoagie), you expected to sit at one of the tiny, crowded tables. Instead, after your orders had been made, Ward made a motion toward the door and said, "Come on."

"We're not eating here?" you asked as you followed him out the door, having to dodge a group of tourists as they milled about on the sidewalk.

"Nope." There was a slight smirk on his face, one which you found to be extremely suspicious, but you trusted him anyway and got into his silver Mercedes. Why Ward chose to drive himself was beyond you. With New York's traffic, you wouldn't have touched a wheel with a ten-foot pole.

"Why don't you use a company driver?" you asked once you were back on the city streets surrounded by a sea of taxi cabs. "Do you enjoy tormenting yourself?"

Ward gave a soft snort through his nose and said, "Not especially. I just prefer to do things myself." You made a noncommittal noise at his explanation, causing him to ask, "What?"

"Is that why you try to run your company without Danny's help? You don't want anything outside of your control?" You had tried to start off with a playful tone, but towards the end your questions had become more serious.

Ward didn't answer for a moment. His eyes were locked to the road, making you worry that you had overstepped your bounds and had already ruined the outing. But, after a moment, he shook his head and the half-smile reappeared.

"I forgot how blunt you can be. I have to say, it's refreshing."

You stared at him in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Most people try to sugar-coat things, especially because I'm their boss and they think I'm going to bite their heads off. They're afraid." He sighed through his nose, clearly bothered by the idea. "And while the board members will be more frank with me, they don't do it out of consideration and respect. They do it because they hate me. They want me gone. They almost succeeded too."

Your stare of confusion turned into one of shock. This was the first time Ward had confided anything extensive about his personal life to you. As if sensing your astonishment and becoming embarrassed by it, Ward cleared his throat and added, "We'll be arriving soon."

Not knowing what to say (since it seemed pretty clear he didn't want to discuss it), you turned toward the passenger side window. You mulled over what Ward had revealed as the cars and pedestrians crawled by. It sounded to you like Ward was very isolated at his job, and you it occurred to you for the first time that he might not even enjoy what he does for work.

Before you knew it, Ward had pulled up to the curb again and turned off the ignition. "It's a bit of a walk, hope you don't mind," he explained while keeping his eyes forward.

"Not at all," you responded, and he gave a nod. Then, without looking in your direction, he opened the door and stepped out. You picked up the bag of food and did the same, giving him an odd look once you had shut the doors and he joined you on the sidewalk. If you didn't know any better, you would have said he was nervous. That would have been _ridiculous_. Ward Meachum didn't get nervous. He just didn't.

The destination wasn't far; only a couple blocks, during which you stole several looks at the well-tailored man walking next to you. Ward didn't look your way, and you had a feeling his inattention was due to some sort of distraction. Probably had something to do with his work – he did run a multi-billion dollar corporation after all. The fact he had spare time to drive you around was a miracle in and of itself.

You had to pump your legs at a faster pace to keep up with his long strides (why was he _so_ damn leggy?), and it felt incredibly strange being in public in the company of such a prominent business figure. What if someone spotted you? Wasn't Ward concerned about keeping up appearances and protecting his hard-earned reputation? What would the paparazzi think if the co-CEO of Rand Enterprises was seen walking around with a tattered-looking creature? They'd snap a few pictures and the two of you would end up on the cover of some tabloid, for sure.

But Ward didn't seem to care who was watching as he placed his hand lightly on your arm, guiding you into the secluded park hidden next to Sutton Square road. Your eyes opened wider as you saw the wild boar stature silhouetted against the East River. You hadn't seen its familiar shape in years. This entire errand was turning into a trip down memory lane, and that couldn't be a coincidence. What was Ward planning?

"Sutton Place Park, huh?" you said aloud as you looked out across the river toward Roosevelt Island, then back up toward the boar. "He's a sight for sore eyes. Hey, buddy," you said to the bronze pig, drawing a snort of amusement from Ward. "I haven't been here in so long."

"I was here somewhat recently," Ward responded, his voice a little farther away. You turned to see he was sitting on the wooden bench facing the river. He patted the spot next to him, and as you seated yourself he added, "A few months ago. With Joy."

"Oh," you simply stated, not knowing what else to say. You weren't supposed to know Ward and Joy had had a falling out, but it felt wrong to ask him questions about his sister under the false pretense that you thought she was still around. It might bring up painful memories, and you knew he would tell you what happened when he was ready.

Which was apparently right now.

"She's… no longer in New York. Or a part of Rand."

You glanced up and met his eye as he began to speak, immediately catching the vulnerable quality in his voice. The hurt there was still sharp and fresh.

"What happened?" you asked quietly, the sandwiches in your lap forgotten.

Ward sighed and looked away from you toward the river, his hands clasped loosely between his knees as he leaned forward.

"I screwed up, that's what happened," he finally responded, his throat working as he swallowed. "I told her something she wasn't ready to hear, and rather than be an understanding big brother, I pushed her. Hard. I demanded she see things from my perspective. And when she finally did…" Ward took a breath and looked down at his hands. "When she finally did, instead of coming to me to talk about it, she just… left."

"She didn't mention where she was going? Or when she would be back?" you asked with your brow creased in concern.

"No. Not even a text." He paused for a few more seconds before confessing, "I hired a PI to try and find her. Nothing has turned up yet. I… I think I really, really fucked up, (Y/N)."

"She's your sister, Ward. You're family."

For some reason, he seemed to find that amusing as a bitter smile crossed his face. "Family. It means less than you would think."

You frowned at that cryptic statement. Ward had been nothing but a devoted son and brother, and family had always been important to him. Where was this coming from?

"Well, regardless, I don't think she disowned you, Ward," you replied after a moment of heavy silence. "I think she just needs some space. She'll come back. I know she will. This is Joy we're talking about. And I know you. You would have never done something so terrible that she would never come back."

Ward gave a small, dark chuckle, still not looking in your direction. "You know me, huh."

 _"Yes,_ I do," you responded firmly. "I don't know what happened, but I know you better than most people. You _love_ Joy. Maybe you made a few terrible mistakes, I don't know. But I know whatever you did was done with her wellbeing in mind." And when you placed your hand on his shoulder, the muscles beneath tensed in response. But then they began to relax, and you gave him a comforting squeeze and joked, "Now are we going to eat these cheap-ass hoagies or are you going to brood at the East River all day?"

Ward gave one of his quiet chuckles, and you were glad to see the smile on his lips. Even if it was a little brittle.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I didn't bring you out here just to force you to hear my sob-story," he responded as he looked back at you. His expression was lighter but his eyes still looked glassy and red-rimmed. It made your chest ache to see him that way, so you broke eye contact and reached down into the plastic bag to retrieve the sandwiches.

"I think I've done enough pitiful crying for the both of us over the past week, so if anyone should be apologizing, it's me," you responded with a half-smile. Had it really been only a week? It felt like a lifetime since you had left your old life behind. You had no idea what the future would hold, but for once, that didn't scare you.

"You don't ever have to apologize for needing help," Ward responded while you handed him his sandwich. You looked up and locked eyes with him, almost breathless as you remembered the same words spoken by Danny not long ago.

 _Oh no, don't start tearing up now, you sentimental sap,_ you internally groaned. You dropped your eyes and began to unwrap your food before you could make a fool of yourself and start crying. Small words of kindness shouldn't evoke such a poignant reaction in you, and yet they did. Had you really be deprived of such things for so long?

As the two of you looked out over the water and ate in silence, you tried to decipher Ward's words. You only knew what Danny had told you, but it was still hard to believe Joy would abandon Ward. Even if she had a legitimate reason to need space from her sibling, it wasn't like her to just drop off the face of the Earth without a word. Joy had always been the responsible, mature kid of the group. What could Ward have done that was _that_ terrible?

After you were finished eating, Ward stood up and motioned for you to follow. Curious, you stood up and did so as he walked over to the railing that separated the tiny park from the river. He leaned against the top rail for a moment, the wind from the water ruffling stray strands of his dark hair. You did the same, breathing in the salt-tinged air.

"You remember when we first met?"

Ward's question, though seemingly random and a little startling, wasn't entirely unexpected. The hoagie shop, the park (not to mention his earlier comments about the youth camp) indicated he was thinking back to his childhood, but you weren't sure why.

"Oh yeah, I remember."

A wide grin was plastered on your face from the first memories you had of Ward. A standoffish boy, arms crossed in front of his expensive polo that rang of insecurity rather than haughtiness. Not a fan of rigid, boring camp games yourself, you had left your group and approached the scowling boy and asked if he wanted to sneak down to the water. He'd looked at you as if you were a piece of dog shit he'd found under his tennis shoes. He'd made some snide remark, you couldn't remember what, so you had shrugged and said, _suit yourself_ , and left without him.

That unfriendly boy had eventually joined you down by the off-limits river, and you had bonded over mossy stones and scratchy reeds. You'd bonded even more after you had been caught and assigned janitorial duty. You were positive the boy had never scrubbed a toilet in his life, but he didn't seem to mind it as much as you thought he would. It seemed like he was actually having fun as the two of you whinged and complained about how stupid and unfair adults were.

And now here you were again, reunited next to another river.

"My father decided to drop me off at camp himself. Gave me a 'talk' beforehand," he said with some amusement. You turned your head to watch Ward as he spoke, a small smile spreading on your face at the fond look on his face. "He told me that this would be an important life lesson for me. I would see firsthand how low-income, inner city kids lived, and I would learn to be grateful for what I had. And not only that, I would be motivated to make sure I never screwed up running the company, or that could be me someday."

Despite Ward's amused tone, you frowned. Harold had said those horrible things? And then you remembered what Ward had told Danny. That his father had beat him. A guy like that, it made sense he would be a monster in other ways as well.

"If he had known what was going to happen, he would have never let me leave the car," Ward remarked with a wider grin.

"What, the fact that you were in cahoots with one of those 'poor, inner city kids' and became a terror around camp?" you asked with a grin that mirrored his. "I bet after you continued to be friends with me, he regretted you going at all."

"I didn't tell him," Ward said as his smile began to fade. "He… found out on his own."

"What? You were that ashamed of me?" you asked in a joking tone, even as his words stung. You hadn't thought Ward cared about that kind of thing, but perhaps you were wrong.

"No!" Ward responded immediately, and a bit louder than intended by the quick glance he threw around the park. But no one paid you any attention, and he turned back to give you a firm look. "No, that's not it at all."

"Then why wouldn't you tell your dad?" you asked, all semblance of humor now gone from your voice as you searched his face. "How long until he figured it out?"

The look on Ward's face told you that you wouldn't like the answer.

"He didn't know about you until… until the Rand funeral. When you disappeared afterwards and your parents called our house."

The flame of anger that sparked within your chest was completely opposite to his soft tone and pleading eyes.

"Your dad didn't know we were friends for _four years?_ What the hell, Ward?!" You expected to sound angry, enraged even, but you sounded hurt and upset more than anything else. The raging fire in your chest became a negative space of pain. This was why Ward wanted to reminisce about your childhoods? Because you were ultimately just a dirty secret he kept the whole time?

"Look, I know how it sounds, but please let me explain."

"Please, do." You full-body turned to look at him, your body language stiff and tense as you glared at him.

"You didn't know my dad. Not really. If you did, you would understand why I didn't tell him," Ward responded with an apologetic wince. "Saying he's an asshole is an understatement. He is… he was… a tyrant."

"So you were afraid he would forbid you from being friends with me? That he would punish you for slumming it with one of those dirty, nasty kids he warned you about?" you accused in a slightly shaking voice, her hands forming into fists at your sides.

"That would have been the best case scenario."

 _"The best case scenario?_ What would have been the _worst_ case scenario?" you asked incredulously. Ward paused, looked away as if to gather his thoughts before returning his hazel eyes back to yours. "He would have invited you over."

You blinked, clearly not expecting that answer.

"Harold would have been the perfect gentleman. Disgustingly polite. He would have extended you every courtesy and made you feel like you were a part of the family."

You searched his eyes, completely confused by that statement, and he continued on.

"And then, just as you were beginning to feel safe and comfortable, he would start to pick you apart. It would be little things. A stinging comment here, an unfriendly glance there. You would begin to feel unwelcome, but be unable to point to any specific event that would tell you why you felt that way."

Ward had your complete attention, pinning you to the spot with the urgency of his voice and the haunted look in his eyes.

"My father would have made it so you would eventually stop coming around of your own volition. You would think it was your own idea, and that maybe being friends wasn't good for either of us." Ward looked back over the water, gripping the railing hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. "That's how Harold works. He manipulates and twists and distorts, until you don't know which thoughts belong to you, and which ones he planted in your head."

Your eyes had begun to widen with horror as you slowly realized Ward was speaking from personal experience. The pain of remembrance and the shadow of fear in his face were too real, and too vivid, as if it had happened only yesterday.

"Is that… Is that why…"

Ward turned toward you as your voice cracked painfully, his dark eyes sorrowful.

"Is that why I began to fade away and eventually disappeared from your life after the funeral? Because Harold knew about you?" Ward looked away, unable to hold your gaze. "Yes. That's why."

All you could do was stare, the foundation of your world shaken. You had wondered for _years_ why Ward had stopped talking to you. You'd blamed yourself, that you were too much of a handful. You had run off after Danny's funeral, upset and wanting to be alone, and your parents had freaked out when they realized you were missing. They had known Ward was your best friend, so they'd called the Meachums. Ward had found you later that night, and while he had been worried, he hadn't seemed angry at you.

But when Ward stopped wanting to hang out, when he stopped responding to your calls and it seemed pretty clear he no longer wanted to be friends, you had thought…

"It… it wasn't because of that night? Because you had to look for me after the funeral? I thought…" You looked up at Ward, your eyes filling with the tears you couldn't hold back as you choked out your words.

"I thought you hated me."

It was Ward's turn to stare at you now, his eyes widened in alarm.

"Hate you? God, I could never hate you. I was trying to _protect_ you."

You turned away, unable to meet his eyes any longer or you really would burst into tears. Anger, hope, pain, relief, all of them mixed together to leave you in a storm of overwhelming emotions.

And then Ward was there, putting an arm around your shoulders as he moved next to you. It shattered the last of your resolve and you finally let the tears slide down your cheeks, leaning your head against him as you cried in silence. He must have felt your distress, because he squeezed you tighter against his side. You remained like that for a while, staring out over the river as the cool wind that hinted at autumn tugged at your hair and clothing. It didn't bother you in the least, Ward's arm keeping you warm and safe.

When you were confident in being able to talk without your voice cracking, you quietly asked, "Is this why you brought me out here? To tell me why you let me go?" You weren't sure why you had phrased it in such an intimate way, but it felt right somehow. Like you had been adrift at sea together, and after losing Danny to the plane crash, Ward had released your hand and let you drift away…

"Yes," Ward responded, his voice slightly muffled as he leaned his cheek against the top of your head, sending an unexpected thrill through you. "I learned the hard way that keeping secrets is a guaranteed way to hurt the ones you love. I lost Joy that way. I can't lose you, too. Not again."

You froze from his words and the undeniable affection behind them, reeling that Ward was saying them to _you_. The blush that spread across your face was hot. The warmth spreading through your chest and limbs was slow and languid, as if you were punch-drunk.

"I know I have no right to ask, but… Do you think there will be the possibility that you can forgive me, someday?"

You slightly pulled away so you could look up into Ward's face. His eyes reflected the uncertainty and sadness in his voice. His expression told you that he fully believed he was beyond redemption and forgiveness for pushing you away all those years ago. It made sense now, why he had seemed so nervous and off-balance. He had brought you to one of the last places he had seen his sister, and now he expected you would leave too.

"Of course I forgive you, Ward," you responded softly, giving him a little smile to show that you really meant it. "I just don't want to be lied to. As long as you're honest with me, there's nothing you could say or do that would make me hate you."

Something flickered in his eyes, but it happened so quickly you thought you imagined it. You must have, because it had looked a lot like fear, and that didn't make any sense.

"I'll try to the best of my ability," Ward responded with a tight smile, but before you could question what it could mean, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the top of your head.

You were pretty sure you were going to spontaneously combust as your heart thudded in your chest and your nerves sizzled up and down your body like an electrical current.

"You ready to go?" he asked once he had pulled away, looking down at you with a soft expression that completed your transition from human being to messy puddle on the sidewalk.

You blinked stupidly and answered, "Uh-huh." You're not sure how you managed to walk with him back to the car since you were fairly sure your feet never touched the ground. The sunshine was bright, the birds were singing, people were smiling to each other. You were seriously living in some kind of fairy tale at this point. Things like this just _didn't_ happen to you, and everything felt unreal in a wonderful way.

You remained on cloud nine after Ward pulled up to your bank, and your skin buzzed pleasantly as you walked into the building together. You only began to come down from your high as you reached into your purse and pulled out your paycheck. You flushed in shame at the unimpressive figure written inside, and just like that, the warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest was gone. Nothing like a harsh reminder that you were jobless, penniless, and technically homeless to snap you back to cruel reality.

"This will only take a second," you told Ward while avoiding eye contact, not wanting him to see your guilt. You certainly didn't want him to come with you to the teller window so he could see just how much money you didn't have.

"I'll be here," he responded with a slight smirk that made you want to stumble on your own feet. You left him where he stood near the check deposit slip desk to stand in line. You nimbled on your lip the entire time, nervously tapping your finger against your leg. You just wanted to get this over with, but you'd made the mistake of coming near lunchtime. After a good twenty minutes of waiting, you finally got through the queue and approached the first teller who motioned you forward.

"I need to deposit this check," you responded as you placed the paper on the counter, along with the check deposit slip you had filled out while in line.

"You have to endorse the back," the woman responded in a tired voice, and you flushed with embarrassment.

"Shit. Right. Uh, sorry," you said in a rush, scribbling your name along the back of the check. You slid it back to her, reading her name tag as she began to punch information into her computer. "Carrie" looked like she dealt with idiots every waking moment of her life, and having worked in the food service industry, you could commiserate.

"All right, here's your receipt," she said after a moment, handing you a slip of paper. She then asked, "Can I help you with anything else?"

"No, I don't think so. Thank you," you responded sheepishly, taking the receipt and gathering your purse in a hurry, feeling the pressure of people in line behind you. "Have a good day," you responded automatically, customer service mode activated from talking to a stranger.

Carrie actually gave a small, amused smile and said, "You too," before you rushed off in your embarrassment. Ward raised an eyebrow at your approach, probably questioning why you looked so harried and scrambled.

"Everything okay?" he asked in a slow drawl that should not have been as attractive as it was.

"Yeah, think so," you responded as you crumpled the receipt in your hand. Dreading how broke you were, you planned to avoid looking at it for as long as possible. You walked past him toward the front entrance, wanting to be out of the fancy lobby, feeling like you didn't belong.

"Did you even check your account?" Ward inquired as he caught up to you, glancing down at your hand.

"No, and I don't plan on it."

"I think you should."

You gave a long sigh and slowed your walk so you could uncrumple the receipt and examine it. You came to a dead halt.

"Damnit," you swore under your breath. "I have to go back."

"Why?" Ward asked, and you could sense him just behind you, hovering over your shoulder.

"She must have given me the wrong receipt. This isn't right."

"Looks right to me," Ward responded in a gravely voice that had a smirk in it somewhere.

"Well, it's not, because I don't have $50,000 in my bank a…ccount…"

You read the receipt over again. And again. Your mind sluggishly trying to come to terms with what you saw, you slowly turned around as you stared up into Ward's face. He had his lips pressed together in a grin he couldn't hide.

"What did you do, Ward."

"Look, don't be angry—"

 _"What did you do?"_

Ward held his hands up, palms forward, as if you were a wild animal about to attack. He spoke in a low, calming voice that did nothing to assuage your fury. "I figured, with everything that's happened, your job and that dick ex-boyfriend of yours, you could use a little something to help make your life easier to navigate."

"A little – a _little something?"_ Your voice had risen an octave, and several people walking by turned their heads to look at you.

"$50,000 isn't that much money, believe it or not," Ward explained in what he probably thought was a reasonable tone. "You'll be lucky if it lasts you the year living in Manhattan. I would have given you twice that amount—"

"…"

"—but Danny stopped me because he thought you would, and I quote, 'freak out.'"

"Well, he was goddamn right! You can't just… you can't… _it's $50,000!"_ you squeaked again in a voice so shrill you hit notes you didn't think were possible. Ward rolled his eyes and put his hand along the middle of your back, gently ushering you toward the revolving front door.

"You don't need to worry, it's from my personal account. I didn't use any of the company's funds," Ward commented as he opened the passenger side door for you. You did not get inside.

"I'm not worried about the _legality_ of it, Ward!" you sputtered as your hands gestured wildly in the air. "You can't just _give_ someone that much money!"

"Why not?"

The question left you speechless, mouth hanging open as your hands froze in the air. He must have found it hilarious, because Ward started chuckling, and the urge to smack him across the arm was dangerously strong.

"Listen, (Y/N)," Ward said as he leaned forward, effectively shutting you up and wiling away your resistance almost instantly. "$50,000 is literally nothing for someone in my economic bracket. That amount of money could vanish from my bank account tomorrow and I probably wouldn't even notice. It's ridiculous. And the notion that I earned all of that money based solely on my merits? That I deserve every penny? It's nonsense. I was born into this life. I got _lucky._

"You, on the other hand," he continued, holding you in place with his hazel eyes, "work harder than anyone I know. You've been through hell in the past few days, and I can't imagine what you've had to endure over the past several months." His eyes took on an earnest quality now, and he strongly reminded you of Danny in that moment.

"If anyone deserves that money, it's you."

And with that, the last of your resistance vanished. Ward and Danny had a way of disarming you that no one else did. It was infuriating and wonderful all at once.

"Fine," you finally conceded, trying to keep your lip from trembling as the urge to cry again was at hand. "But I'm paying you back."

"You can pay me back when your net worth is more than mine," he responded with a sharp grin.

"Asshole," you mumbled grumpily, and then moved forward to give him a brief hug. He must not have been expecting it, because Ward's muscles hardened with a flinch as your arms wrapped around him. As if… he had been expecting you to strike him instead. Your brows furrowed as you remembered why that was probably the case: Ward's abusive father. The list of reasons to hate the man was growing longer, and you almost wished he was still alive so you could give him a piece of your mind.

But after a moment, Ward wrapped his arms around you and squeezed. The warmth and happiness from earlier was beginning to return, but it was dampened when a thought occurred to you. You pulled away from Ward and gave him a look.

"What?" he asked with raised brow.

"I can do whatever I want with the money right?"

Ward gave you a frown. "You're not allowed to give it away. It's yours to use."

"No, no, I mean…" You took a deep breath. "You realize I'll use the money to get my own place, right?"

"That is the idea," Ward responded slowly.

"Danny's going to be disappointed that I'm moving out," you explained, guilt swirling in your chest from the idea of abandoning your other friend.

"I don't give a damn what Danny thinks," Ward said immediately, surprising you with the firmness in his voice. "This is about what you want. What will make you happy. And if having a place of your own is what would do that, then I am fully supportive of it." And then he added with a grumble, "And in the end, Danny will be supportive and happy for you too."

You figured you'd gotten more than your fair share of hugs from Ward today, so you grinned up at him with so much happiness and joy that you thought you would burst.

"I'm still mad at you," you said with the idiotic grin still plastered on your face.

"I can tell," Ward responded with a chuckle, slightly shaking his head. "Come on. I'll take you back to Danny's. You can yell at him for his part of the scheme when he gets back." You were already getting into the passenger seat, so you couldn't ask him what he meant as he shut the door and walked around the car to the driver's side.

"So you _were_ talking to Danny on the phone earlier?" you asked when he reentered the car, getting behind the wheel and shutting his door.

"Nope, that was me transferring money into your account. I looked inside of your purse for your checkbook for the routing and account number. Sorry about that," he added with a smirk that wasn't at all sorry.

"Ward Meachum, you are absolutely the worst."

"And yet, you love me anyway."


	18. Chapter 18

Finding an affordable apartment in Manhattan was a bigger pain in the ass than you could have imagined. Even with the fifty thousand dollars safely tucked away in your bank account, and even with Danny and Ward's help, you found yourself at a loss.

They would alternate days going apartment hunting with you, and it was actually an enjoyable venture, especially when every realtor you met assumed you were a couple. Danny would flush an adorable pink color, shake his head and stammer that _no_ , you were just good friends. Ward, on the other hand, would raise an eyebrow and smirk, leaving you to be the one bright red with embarrassment. He even wrapped his arm around your shoulders and called you sweetheart at one point, causing you to wish for a swift and merciful death on the spot.

But finally, _finally._ You found one. It would have still been far out of your financial range normally, and you didn't know what you would do when the money Ward had given you ran out (which wouldn't even last the year, he had been right about that). But it was perfect for your needs. One bedroom, one bathroom, and a few minutes' walk to Sutton Place Park. You weren't sure why that mattered, but it for some reason… it did.

"Wonderful!" the leasing office assistant exclaimed when you told him you would take it. "I just need three forms of valid ID, proof of current address, proof of renter's insurance, and six months' worth of paystubs from your current employment."

"Oh… um…" Crap. You'd forgotten apartment complexes tended to want stuff like that to prove you were a responsible adult. You looked up Ward (he was accompanying you that day) with a slightly panicked expression on your face.

 _Help._

"(Y/N) started new employment only just recently," Ward interjected, his tone all-business. "So she won't have the proper amount of documentation yet. But I am more than willing to vouch for her."

"Oh," the man remarked while fixing his glasses, staring up into Ward's face. "She works for you, Mr. Meachum?" You couldn't remember Ward even giving his name, but of course, that's how you probably got this tour in the first place. Ward name-dropping on your behalf.

"She does," Ward responded without missing a beat. You nearly choked, but managed to stay silent as you wondered what the hell he was doing.

"And what is her current position?" the man asked (you'd already forgotten his name) as he pulled out a sheath of paperwork, thumbing through it before finding the one he wanted.

Ward hesitated here, just for a moment, and then said, "She's the assistant… to my assistant."

 _Oh lord, he has no idea what he's doing,_ you thought with an internal groan. _I hope he remembers these are legally-binding documents._

And then it was done. The apartment was yours, as you'd come with the prepared identification ( _a State ID card and goddamn_ birth _certificate_ , you lamented) as well as a check for your deposit and first two months' rent. You had to admit, it felt good writing a check for thousands of dollars and actually having the money to back it up. Was this how rich people felt all the time? Because if so, as much as you hated to admit it, you could see the appeal.

"So, boss," you said as you walked down the steps of the apartment building. "When do I start?"

Ward snorted softly through his nose and said, "You know that was just for the paperwork, right?"

But you shook your head and interjected. "Oh no. If you plan to keep throwing money at me then I'm going to earn my keep. I'm going to be the best assistant to an assistant you've ever seen."

A smile cracked across his face as he held the passenger door open for you, musing, "Megan could use the help, considering I'm probably the world's biggest asshole to her."

"There you go," you responded once he had returned to the car on the driver's side. "Problem solved. At least until you fire me because I have no idea what I'm doing."

Ward started the car, shooting you an amused looked. "Do you have a brain between your ears?"

"On a good day."

"Then you're more qualified than half the people on my board."

You tried not to laugh, but it was impossible – his tone was serious and his expression deadpan, though his eyes were lit with an impish quality. He drove you both back to Danny's apartment, where you gave Danny the good news after he returned home from work. You celebrated that night by throwing an impromptu party comprised of takeout food, popcorn, and a movie marathon of _The Hobbit._

"You know we can still do this after I move out, right?" you inquired of Danny as you stole a quick handful of popcorn from the bowl in his lap.

"Promise?" Danny responded with a completely earnest expression that made you grin despite yourself.

"I swear on Bilbo's undying love for Thorin," you dramatically proclaimed before tossing the stolen popcorn into your mouth.

Ward, in turn, stole some of the noodles from the plate balanced on your knees, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

* * *

As much as you hated to admit it, because admitting it meant you could lose it, life was good. No, not just good. _Amazing._ Your apartment was beautiful, safe, and all yours. Your job was… well, not easy. Nothing involving Ward was. But it was fulfilling and interesting.

Afraid that you would be a greater hindrance than a help to Ward's assistant, you quickly learned the poor woman was overworked, underappreciated, and eternally grateful for the extra help. The clashes Megan had with her boss were entirely from Ward's side, and once you volunteered to take on Ward's appointments and schedules, you could practically see the weight lifting from her shoulders.

It was no secret that Danny was a much more lenient, amicable boss, but you secretly enjoyed working for Ward. Maybe because, unlike Megan, you didn't live in terror of him. In fact, the first time he used an impolite tone with you, you snapped back, "You're paying me to be an _assistant_ , not a doormat. So treat me like one, Ward." He had blinked owlishly at you, as if he had never heard such words spoken to him before. Maybe he hadn't.

And then he had smirked and said, "My deepest apologies, (Y/N). It won't happen again."

"If it does... I'll tell Danny and his puppy-dog eyes will haunt you forever."

"Don't you dare!" His slightly panicked voice followed you as you shut the door to his office, trying to keep the self-satisfied smug look off your face.

So yes, life was pretty great. You stayed in touch with Foggy, and his continual cheeriness and charming humor made you wonder how all of these wonderful people had suddenly come into your life. You weren't just content, you were _happy._ A word you would have never ascribed to your own life, and perhaps that was the reason the cruel, tiny voice was back.

 _Just wait,_ it whispered from the dark recesses of your mind. _You only have to wait a little while for it all to come to ruin._

Well, that wouldn't do. Friday night, while crawling under the covers of your large, new bed, you remembered you would give the cruel voice the middle finger and spend the weekend with your friends. All of them. Danny, Ward, and Foggy. Considering the last time you and Foggy had been to a bar, it would probably be better to stay in at Danny's. Maybe have a game night. You hadn't touched a board game since childhood, and the idea of Danny, Ward, and Foggy bantering over a game meant for families was somehow hilarious and heart-warming.

You drifted to sleep with hope in your heart and a smile on your lips. You woke up to terror and horror, pointed straight into your face in the shape of a gun.

"You scream, you die. Understand?"

At first, you couldn't move, or even speak. All you could do was stare up at your ex, bewildered sleep-heavy mind wondering why he was in your bedroom.

"J… Josh? What-"

 _"Shut up."_

You snapped your mouth shut and tried to stifle the whimper in your throat. You pulled the covers closer around you, trembling as your brain fully awakened from sleep to realize the dangerous situation you were in.

Josh's eyes were wide and demented, his hair unkempt and greasy. You had no doubt he would pull the trigger at the slightest provocation. So why hadn't he? What did he want?

"Did you… did you think…" He started and stopped, voice shaking with some wild emotion. "Did you think… you could just _move on_ without me?" He wiped a hand across his mouth, and through the morning sunlight streaming through the cracks in the blinds you could see the hand holding the gun was trembling.

"That you could forget about me? Replace me with your fuck-buddies?"

A faint shimmer of anger heated your cheeks, even as fear paralyzed your body in place. But you didn't let it show, knowing any sort of defiance on your part might very well end your life.

"Josh…" you ventured softly, and he didn't tell you to shut up this time. "Please… don't do this. You don't want to hurt me." Your voice sounded surprisingly calm and composed, considering you were facing down your death. Maybe it was because a small part of yourself had known it might come to something like this.

"Maybe I should hurt you," he growled in an ugly tone. "The way you hurt me."

The anger attempted to rear its head, and you stifled it again. _Be fearful and meek,_ you warned yourself. _Like how you used to be. That's what he wants._

You hard-swallowed, took a deep breath, and let the fear envelope your voice into something broken and pitiful. It wasn't hard, considering every ounce of trembling fear was genuine.

"I'm so… so sorry Josh. I… I never wanted to hurt you."

It made him pause, at least. His reddened eyes traveled over your face, searching for any attempts at deception. Encouraged, you kept speaking. Anything to get him to rethink what he was doing. You had never seen him this angry or unstable before, and it truly frightened you.

"Please don't hurt me, Josh. I was wrong to leave you. I'm so sorry."

His eyes hardened into cruel gems.

"You're lying."

Your breath caught in your throat and your already-racing heart began to pound harder in your chest. You had gone too far and he had called your bluff. You were always a terrible liar.

"You wanted to leave. Abandon me so you could go fuck your boy-toys in peace. Tell me, (Y/N)." He learned forward across your bed, his unpleasant breath and face violating your personal space. "Did you start fucking them _before_ you left me? Or did you wait until afterwards to let them stick their dicks in you? Do they do it at the same time or do they take turns—"

For just a moment, a split second in time, you imagined how it would feel to leap at him and tear your nails down his face. To split open his skin and maim his hateful face so the outside would match what was inside.

But you held back, because your desire to live was stronger than your desire to hurt him. It wasn't worth the price you would have had to pay.

And then the doorbell rang.

Josh grabbed you, dragged you off the bed, and wrapped a hand around your mouth before the doorbell chime had even faded from the air. You tried to scream through his sweaty palm, but it was a small pathetic noise that died on utterance. He dragged you down the hallway, through the kitchen and to the front door, and while you kicked out and dug your nails into his forearm. It was as if he didn't feel a thing, and that's when you began to suspect he was high, or drunk, or strung out on something.

He paused in front of the door and you knew he was peering through the peephole to the other side.

"It's the blond with the curly hair," he sneered under his breath. "Does he have a key?"

You raked your brain trying to remember, and then you nodded, still unable to speak through his hand clamped on your mouth.

"Then tell him to leave."

You blinked in confusion. Josh released you just to whirl you around, grasping your arm with one hand while his other hand held the gun pointed directly at the door.

"Tell him to leave. Or I shoot him."

You had no idea the expression "icy veins" was so accurate – you felt a chill run down your body, and goosebumps broke across your skin as if you were freezing.

"Okay," you whispered earnestly. "I will. I promise. Just don't shoot him."

Josh didn't respond, his glassy eyes narrowed in hatred. Had there been a time when he had once looked at you tenderly? With love and devotion? If he had, you couldn't imagine it now.

Your apartment had, or so you had believed before your ex broke in, a sophisticated security system. There was a small com next to the door, and you pressed the button now, wishing more than anything that it had a video feed. Perhaps you could fool Danny with your voice alone, but it would have been impossible to lie to him face-to-face.

"Danny?" Your voice cracked, and you tried again, your whole world focused on the gun pressed to the wood. "Danny, hey."

 _"Hey, (Y/N)!"_ he responded through the com, his usual cheery self. _"You ready to go?"_

 _Go?_ You wondered in confusion. Then you remembered. You were going to spend the whole weekend with him and Ward, planning to invite Foggy later. You had completely forgotten.

Josh glared at you, hand tightening on the pistol, and you said in a rush, "I'm sorry Danny, I don't feel very good. I think I'm coming down with something. Maybe next weekend?"

 _"Oh."_ You could practically hear the enthusiasm drain from his voice. But he wouldn't let it go at that. Not Danny. _"I could come in and make you some soup? How bad do you feel? Maybe I should take you to a doctor?"_

Josh's finger twitched on the trigger.

"No!"

Your ex fixed you with a death-glare, just daring you to expose his presence. You were trembling all over, on the verge of tears, but you couldn't break down. Not yet. Not until Danny was safely away.

"No… It's fine, Danny. I'm fine. I just want to be left alone, okay?" You didn't give him a chance to respond; you cut off the com and turned to Josh, expression silently pleading. He waited for a moment before looking back through the peephole, and your gaze fell to the gun.

"It worked. Looks like you're still good at pushing people away when you no longer want them."

Your gaze flicked up to his, and he appeared smug, as if waiting for you to fight back. But you didn't. He was the one with the gun and the power. You weren't a vigilante or a superhero. Maybe you could get the gun away from him, but if you couldn't, then he would make your death that much more painful.

And there was no doubt in your mind: you were going to die today.

A painfully tight hand on your arm, he pulled you away from the door with a scowl on his face. You complied, too tired and afraid to resist. You distantly felt the tears building along your lids, but you wouldn't let them fall. They wouldn't gain you any sympathy here.

 _"Sit."_

Josh shoved you down into a chair at the dining table and you glared up at him for the rough treatment. Then he did something… odd. He tucked the gun into the back of his pants and then slowly meandered into your kitchen.

"You have a knife sharpener?"

You blinked at the non-sequitur, more confused than afraid as he began to pull open drawers and cupboards. But your heart came to a standstill as he pulled out the ceramic rod knife sharpener you hadn't even had the chance to use yet.

He fingered the tool for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out something you could quite see. Then he pulled the object open, revealing a gleaming 6-inch blade of a hunting knife.

"No." The denial was out of your mouth before you could stop it. "No, no no no—" You got up from the chair and backed away, the sound of him dragging the blade's edge along the sharpener was like a death knell. The sight of a gun was frightening, but the image of a knife in his hands sent a jolt of animal fear through you. Though they were deadly, guns didn't evoke the kind of reaction a knife could cause. There was something ancient and primal about them, and every instinct in every fiber of your being screamed for you to run.

Before you had the chance, he closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. You turned to flee, but he yanked you back by the fistful of hair he now had in his grasp. You screamed even though there was no point to it. The walls, floor, and ceiling were soundproof. Just one of the many amenities to your new luxurious apartment.

"You are going to pay," he growled in your ear as you choked out a frightened sob. "For _every. Thing. You did. To me."_ At each punctuation, he flicked the hunting knife across your right arm, drawing a scream each time.

"Please, please stop," you begged, sounding like a stranger to yourself. Was that really your voice, filled with overwhelming terror? How had this happened so fast? Were you just having a nightmare, still tucked away safely in your bed?

"You thought you could leave me?" Josh muttered angrily, flicking the knife across your upper arm in a hot, searing line of pain. Another sob escaped your throat. "There is no leaving. Not for me or for you. The Hand requires loyalty until death, and so do I."

 _He's insane,_ you thought, desperately trying to wriggle out of his grasp as tears streamed down your face. _He's utterly insane._

You didn't speak out loud, you couldn't. Your muscles were stiff with fear and you were more afraid than you had been in your entire life. Your arm felt as if it were on fire, and when you looked down at the limb you saw it smeared with bright crimson.

"Josh, please stop, please don't—" Your pleading was interrupted by another scream, this one evoked as the tip of the knife dug into your side.

"When I'm done with you," he murmured cruelly into your ear, twisting the edge of the knife to draw another scream out of you. "I'll wait for them. Your shiny, rich boy toys. I'll wait until they see what I've done to you. Carved up your pretty face and redecorated using your insides. Won't want you then, will they?" A muffled sob left your lips, but the sound of a key turning in the lock made you go silent and still.

Josh kept talking. He hadn't heard it.

"And then when they've gotten a good long look, I'll butcher them too. Madame Gao will be pleased, and I can show her I _am_ worthy. Worthy enough to kill her most hated enemies!"

The words barely registered with you; your head was slightly turned to watch the door, and you didn't breathe as you waited to see who would open it. The apartment was dim, and the light from the hallway spilled across the entryway, finally drawing Josh's attention.

A voice called your name, and your heart pounded in both elation and terror. Between the space of one of your heartbeats, Josh exchanged the knife for his gun and raised it toward the door. Without thinking, you tightened your hand into a fist, jerked your wounded arm backward as hard as you could and jammed your elbow into his ribcage.

His arm jerked upwards and the gun fired, immediately deafening your right ear as the flash of the muzzle left an after image in your vision. The bullet lodged into the entryway above the door.

 _"Ward, run!"_ you screamed, your voice cracking painfully by the force of your words. You hoped you could serve as a distraction, angering Josh enough that he would focus his attention on you. It worked. He grabbed you around the waist, losing the gun in the process, and picked you up and bodily dragged you into the bedroom. You kicked and flailed, screaming wordlessly as you tried to get away from him. You heard your name called by both Danny and Ward, and you shouted back to them, but then you were cut off as Josh threw you onto the bed. He turned around, slammed the door shut, and immediately pulled your dresser in front of the door.

You were trapped in your bedroom with the man attempting to kill you.

Josh turned his gaze on you, mad and burning, and you attempted to crawl backwards out of his reach. He completely ignored the shouting behind the door, instead snatching you around the ankle and yanking you forward. You tried to hold onto the covers, but they were becoming slick with your blood and you had nothing solid to hold onto.

You kicked, cursed, and claws, but still he pulled you off the bed and gripped you tightly against his chest. You could hear Danny and Ward pounding on the bedroom door, but Josh had successfully blocked it. It wouldn't hold for more than a few minutes, but Josh didn't need it to. You heard the flick of the knife blade opening and saw its deadly surface in the dim light.

"Live in service to the Hand or die in the dark," Josh spoke in an almost reverent whisper, shaky breath hot against your ear, and you knew what he was about to do in a moment of dreadful clarity.

You were helpless to stop it.

The blade slid across your throat so smoothly you felt no pain, and the crimson fan that erupted in your vision was so bright it didn't seem real. The strength vanished from your legs, and you sank to the ground, his arms no longer pinning you in place.

You looked up at the man you had once shared your life with as he turned the scarlet-dipped blade toward his own chest. He closed his eyes, murmured something that could have been a silent prayer, and plunged the blade below his sternum.

He staggered for a moment, eyes now wide with his mouth open like a fish gasping for air, before he collapsed against the bed, a river of red running down his shirt.

As you watched his eyes slowly lose focus, you wondered if you should be feeling panic or fear instead of numb acceptance. Maybe it was the shock, but you felt like this had been coming for a long time. This was how it had to end. It wasn't fair. You really had thought you'd found something to cling on to. A future. Friends. Happiness. And now it was gone. Taken away by _him._

As you stared up at the ceiling, gasping for breath as warm life trickled from your neck, you were thankful Danny and Ward couldn't see you. That they were safe, and they would be spared the dark violence that followed on your heels like a malicious shadow.

You felt your eyelids grow heavy, but before you could close them, the strangest hallucination danced across your vision. The door to your bedroom abruptly exploded from the wall in a shower of splinters, the chest of drawers breaking apart as a glowing amber object burst through the wood. It looked to you like molten iron, and you wondered with fading lucidity if someone had decided to break down the door with a fiery battering ram.

But there was a person attached to the glowing instrument, and Danny leapt into the room, his face hardened into something terribly focused and lethal. It was his fist that had crumbled the door and furniture as if it was made of paper. The skin was illuminated with an inner light that shone through bone and veins, and your oxygen-deprived brain thought it was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen.

His face morphed into a mask of horror as the luminescent hand began to fade. Ward was right behind him, his eyes wide in abject terror. Your friends converging on you was the last thing you saw as your eyelids drifted shut.

* * *

"No no _nononono!"_

Danny rushed to the bloody figure on the ground, his hands going around her throat to staunch the flow of blood that spurted from her neck with each pulse of her heart.

"I need something to cover the wound. A piece of clothing. Something. Anything!" Danny urgently yelled as he looked over his shoulder at Ward.

"Fuck! _Fuck!"_ Ward swore in panic, picking up a stranded t-shirt from the destroyed chest of drawers and throwing it to Danny before pulling out his phone. Danny covered the gash in her throat with his palm and the shirt, slowly the bleeding at least marginally. "Goddammit. How did he get _in_ here!"

"She's losing too much blood," Danny spoke in a voice tight with fear, his hands already wet and crimson through the shirt. "The ambulance won't get here in time."

"Well, we have to _fucking try_ ," Ward barked, his voice cracking with stress as the line began to ring. "Come on, _come on_. Yes, hello? My friend has been severely injured. She… her throat was cut and she's unconscious." Ward rattled off the address to the apartment, pacing across the floor while running his sweaty palm through his hair. He was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown, and Danny was holding his hands around her neck with desperate focus. Ward felt like he couldn't breathe, a scream trapped in his chest, waiting to burst.

While the operator remained on the line after giving him instructions ("keep pressure on the wound"), Ward pulled the phone away from his ear and snarled, "Can't you _do_ something?"

"I don't know!" Danny snapped in response, staring down at her face with something that was closer to grief than rage. After all, the one who had done this was dead in the corner. There was no justice to be served, no revenge to be sought. All that was left was to watch his friend slowly bleed out on the floor of her apartment.

"You don't _know?"_ Ward bit back. "You can punch a hole in a goddamn building, but you can't help her?!"

"Maybe! I don't know!" Danny yelled, his own panic getting the better of him. "Let me think!"

Ward wanted to grab him by the shoulders and give him a shake, but instead he held his tongue, knowing each precious second that ticked by was bringing someone he cared about closer to death.

"I… have healed a wound before. But it wasn't like this. Besides, I just used my chi, and—"

Ward crouched down beside him, his face aggressively close to Danny's as he growled, "I don't want to hear about your bullshit chi, or feng shui, or whatever kind of mystical nonsense that's about to come out of your mouth. If there's something you can do, then _do it_."

The look on Danny's face was heartbreaking, as if he wanted to tell Ward that it probably wouldn't work, and that removing the cloth would most likely be her death sentence. Then again, she had lost so much blood that she probably wouldn't live long enough for it to matter. Danny was her last hope, and they both knew it.

* * *

Taking a deep breath and flexing his fingers, Danny removed the shirt from the wound and placed his right hand over the gash, closing his eyes while trying to ignore the feel of warm liquid trickling through his fingers.

He took another long, deep breath, centering himself in the way Bakuto had showed him. It was distasteful to think of the man now and borrow from him any teachings Danny had learned, but the dire circumstances called for it. So he pushed aside all thought of the dead Hand leader, and pulled from within him the strength to stop her life force from escaping from her traumatized body.

At first, nothing happened. He could hear Ward's breath quickening, struggling to resist the hyperventilation that wanted to take hold. He pushed away the distraction. The feel of her pulse slowing – he pushed that away too. There was only the inward focus and concentration.

There was only the power of the Dragon.

And then he felt it, the familiar yet foreign force that traveled down his arm, concentrating into his hand as it glowed like a beacon of hope and destruction. Danny focused the energy on healing, as opposed to violence, as he had done to save Colleen. There was no poison to draw from this wound, so he focused on coaxing her body into repairing itself. He had no idea if it would work now as Colleen's injury had seemed less egregious after he had purged the toxins from her body. It was difficult to remember, as Danny had collapsed soon after.

Danny pushed that thought away too, much more concerned for (Y/N)'s welfare than his. It was a moment of intense concentration, balancing his focus on the edge of a razor-sharp knife. But then Danny felt the change within the flow of energy in her body. Tendons and ligaments began stitching back together, arteries and blood vessels rejoining inside connecting tissue.

Most important of all, the blood-letting stopped. Danny couldn't replace the blood she had lost, but he poured what energy he could spare into the fading light of her life force. It caused his own heart to give an uneven flutter, and he gasped for air as he released her throat, spots dancing before his vision.

He had come close, much too close, to giving her everything he had.

* * *

"Did it work?" Ward asked sharply, waiting for Danny to remove his hands before he examined the wound. There was an angry red gash, but it was shallow and no longer bleeding.

"Jesus, Danny," he mumbled in awe. "You actually did it."

The only answer he received was the sound of a dull _thud_ , and Ward jerked his head to see his other friend had fallen unconscious, head resting on (Y/N)'s thigh.

"Danny! _Danny!"_

There was no response, even after he began to wildly shake Danny's shoulder. Ward was gripped with the very real terror that he might lose his only two friends at the same time, and there was nothing he could do about it.


	19. Chapter 19

You knew it was raining. You didn't know what day it was, what time it was, or if you had somewhere to be. But you knew it was raining. The gentle pitter-patter to your left told you this was so, and you remained with your eyes shut for quite a while, simply listening to the rain to stall from having to get up.

But something was… off. The sound of the rain was coming from the left. But your bedroom window was to your right. Had you turned around in your sleep? Maybe you had stayed the night at Danny's?

 _Danny…_

You sat bolt upright, gasping for air as your eyes flew open. The beeping of your heart monitor, something your brain had somehow excluded from hearing before, set a panicked rhythm by your elbow. The overhead lights too bright as you raised a hand to shield your face. The panicked breath coming in and out of your throat was too loud, and your neck ached with a terrible, dull ache.

Raising a hand to your neck, you felt the rough texture of a cloth bandage wrapping around its entire circumference. For a suspended moment in time, your mind was blank in its confusion. And then like a faulty dam, it burst under the pressure it could no longer contain. Images flashed before your eyes: Josh's red-rimmed eyes, wide and menacing behind the barrel of a gun. A knife flashing in the dark. A door widening to reveal the light of hope. The color of red, painting the air with a ribbon of crimson.

And then a molten, glowing fist breaking through the blocked door and dresser, shattering the world into a kaleidoscope of wood and light.

You didn't know what any of it meant, what was real and what was false. The panic rising in your chest prevented you from making sense of your memories, and all your mind could do was scream _get out!_

Reaching down to pull out the IV in your arm, you succeeded in popping out the tube but the needle and catheter remained taped to your elbow. Next, you pulled off the pressure cuff around your bicep and yanked off the sensors stuck to your chest, the heart monitor screaming out its alarm at the absence of a heartbeat. You ignored it and flipped back the covers, shocked to see your pajamas had been replaced by a hospital gown. It added to the sense of unreality and urgency that pulled you from the bed, your unsteady legs shaking as you wobbled for the door.

You didn't know how you knew, but someone was coming for you, you were sure of it. Alarm bells were screaming in your head to run as fast as possible, even if you didn't know where you were or where you should go.

You wrapped your hand around the handle and pulled, just to collide with an older man in a doctor's coat. There were two nurses behind him, all wearing expressions of mild surprise, but all you saw were potential enemies.

 _The Hand was everywhere._

"Whoa, where do you think you're going?" the man, clearly a doctor, asked with what was probably a friendly smile, but your panicked mind only saw a trap.

"I need to go, I need to leave—" you panted, already out of breath even though you had only stumbled a few feet.

"What you need is to get back into bed," the doctor responded in a reasonable, firm tone. Instead of listening to his advice, you tried to push your way past the trio. Hands grasped at you, and before you knew it, you were struggling and screaming and writhing on the ground.

This was not you. Whoever this terrified creature was, with the frantic noises coming from its mouth, it wasn't you.

You felt a sting on the flesh of your upper arm, and your last thoughts as the world began to fade were of them.

 _Danny… Ward…_

You didn't completely lose consciousness, but your surroundings lost their physical solidness. You existed out of time and space, and you didn't much care about the muffled noise and activity just out of your awareness. At one point, the noises peaked into what you suspected were angry voices.

Coming back to reality was much more gradual this time. A slow, heaviness filled your thoughts and limbs, and you just wanted to go to sleep. But you must have stirred because you heard a soft voice call your name. You tried to respond but your lips and tongue wouldn't quite cooperate yet.

There was a touch on your shoulder, one so gentle you barely felt it, and that forced you to put real effort into opening your eyes. The face above you was too blurred for recognition, so you squinted and concentrated, forcing your vision to come into focus. Even after you realized who it was staring down at you, you didn't react for a few delayed seconds. And then you croaked out his name.

 _"Ward."_

"I'm here."

You tried to speak his name again, but your lips were trembling too hard for you to form words. His face was growing blurry again, but not from the lingering effects of the sedatives. Hot tears slid down your cheeks as a small sob escaped your throat, and he was there immediately, leaning down and wrapping his arms around you. You tried to return the gesture, but your left wrist was pulled back, restrained by something that sounded metallic. But your right arm was free, so you gripped that across his back, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

You couldn't speak, but you didn't need to. Your shaking, desperate hold and his tight, unyielding embrace said it all. He stroked the back of your hair, and despite the discomfort he must have felt at such an odd posture, he continued to lean over the hospital bed to hold you.

Finally, to your great disappointment, Ward released you. But he didn't go far, remaining only a few inches away as he kept his hands on your shoulders. From the look in his wide eyes, you guessed he needed to reassure himself that you were really okay.

So… it really was true. Josh had sliced open your throat like you were a fish. But that left so many questions. For one, how were you still alive? Secondly, your throat felt sore, but it certainly didn't feel as if it had been sliced into salami.

And third…

"Where's Danny?"

Ward released you and blinked, cleared his throat, and shifted in that way you knew meant he was suddenly uncomfortable.

"He's handling an emergency at the office. He wanted to be here, but uh, the doctors didn't know when you would be awake."

No, something about this definitely didn't smell right.

"Is he okay? Is everything all right?"

"Okay? Why would you ask if he's okay?" Ward asked with a smile that was a little too stretched. "Of course he's okay, why wouldn't he be."

The memory, fuzzy and fantastical, played across your thoughts. Danny bursting into your room, his fist glowing with the angry light of molten lava.

"I just… know he would be worried, so I wanted to be sure he was doing okay." It was true that you wanted to be sure Danny was emotionally okay after finding you bleeding out on the floor. But after your strange memory of him, you wondered if perhaps something physically frightening had happened to him too.

"Oh… Yes, he was very worried, and he did come and check on you while you were unconscious. He'll be back as soon as he can. Promise." The smile he gave now was more genuine, and you tried to return it you're your own shaky version. Explaining to Ward how you hallucinated that Danny had a glowing fist wasn't going to make your situation any better, and at least he was all right.

Now, to ask the other question on your mind.

"Why… am I handcuffed to the bed?" You wriggled your left wrist, causing the handcuffs to jingle. Ward gave a deep sigh, glancing down at the cuffs with a slight wrinkle to his nose. Despite the circumstances, you found it endearing.

"It was a compromise."

"A… compromise?" you asked as he brought his hazel eyes back to yours. "For what?"

"The staff wanted to use a full set of restraints, but I convinced them otherwise," he answered with an edge to his tone. It almost made you smile. Now you knew why there had been angry voices – Ward had fought on your behalf, even after you had tried to escape the hospital.

"I didn't realize hospitals have police-issue handcuffs lying around," you responded casually, even as your heart began to beat in your throat. You knew what was coming next. "What's going on, Ward?"

"There's a detective here. You don't have to say a word to him," Ward rushed to say, his lips set into a tense line. "In fact, I would advise against it. I can get the best attorney in the city here in a half hour and we can—"

"Whoa, whoa. Lawyer? I don't need a lawyer, I was—I was attacked!"

Ward hesitated, looking as if he was about say something he really didn't want to.

"It's… complicated."

 _They know,_ you realized with dread. _They know Josh was a part of The Hand. And by the look on his face, Ward might know too._

You cleared your throat, and in a voice that was far calmer than you felt, you asked, "Who is he? The detective?"

Ward didn't speak for a few seconds, simply staring at you as if gauging whether he should tell you, before he finally relented.

"His name is Brett Mahoney, and from what I've heard, he's a decent guy. He says he just wants to ask you a few questions about… about _him_. But like I said, you don't have to say a damn thing to him. In fact, you give the word and I'll lawyer you up so fast his head will spin."

Now you did give a small smile, more grateful than you could say for Ward's continued support. You placed your free hand on top of his, the one gripping the bed rail, and met his eye as you said, "Thank you, Ward. I really appreciate it, but… I have nothing to hide. I'll talk to him. I just… want it to be over."

Guilt flushed through you at the lie, but it worked. Ward gave a reluctant nod, squeezed your hand, and then retreated from the bed to walk toward the door. After he left the room, you hard-swallowed and leaned back against the pillows. How were you possibly going to pull off lying to a detective?

 _Just act like the victim he expects you to be,_ you told yourself while tightening your grip on the bed cover. _Play the ignorant, frightened, battered ex-girlfriend. It's not like it's that much of a stretch to begin with._ And hopefully any nervousness you displayed would be perceived as anxiety from the whole ordeal.

The doctor, the one who had sedated you, along with a small team of nurses came in, probably alerted by Ward to the fact that you were awake. Your bandage was changed, and you tried to pay attention to what they were saying, but you were distracted by the fact you would have to fool a detective soon.

"We would like to watch you overnight, but really, you seem perfectly fine. The wound on your neck needed a few stitches, but honestly wasn't very deep. You can go home now if you want, but we would advise staying until tomorrow."

"Okay," you responded vaguely, focused on constructing your false narrative. You had decided sticking with as much truth as you could, and omitted any information about the Hand. Considering how you shouldn't know about them in the first place, it shouldn't be that hard.

Once the medical team was gone, Ward returned a few minutes later, much sooner than you had been expecting. The detective was in tow, and you watched him warily as your heart hammered in your chest. The fact the detective had decided to stay in the hospital until you were conscious made your anxiety skyrocket. This was clearly an important case for him.

"Hi," the suited man said, smiling warmly as he extended his hand to you. Your eyes automatically drifted to the badge hung around his neck. "Detective Brett Mahoney." You shook his hand and gave him your name, your voice sounding rough from lack of use and even perhaps from your injury. Either way, you sounded like a cracked porcelain dish on the verge of breaking, and you prayed that would help your case.

"I'm going to try to be brief so you can get back to focusing on your recovery. Is that all right? That we talk alone?" He cast a backwards glance at Ward, who stood there with his arms crossed like the world's best-dressed stone guardian.

"It's okay, Ward," you said with a small smile. "I can do this." Ward gave a mistrustful glance in Detective Mahoney's direction before he responded.

"I'll be right outside that door if you need me."

You nodded to show you understood, but your gaze was on the detective as he watched Ward leave the hospital room.

"How long have you known Mr. Meachum?" the detective asked in a casual tone, but his eyes told you he was far more interested in the question than he pretended.

"Is that part of the case?" you asked lightly. You didn't want to come off as uncooperative, but you weren't about to go into Ward's personal history either. Detective Mahoney would have to sate his curiosity from another source.

"No. It's not." The detective's smile faded as he saw something in your face. What it was, you weren't sure, but he did pull a small key out of his pocket and unlocked the handcuffs restraining your wrist to the bed. "I apologize about this. It was just a precaution, meant to protect you during your… confusion."

You attempted to keep your expression neutral and not portray the annoyance you were feeling. You hadn't been confused, you had been attacked by one of the Hand's henchmen, and you didn't know if they would send someone else to finish the job. Shut you up for good – which was exactly the reason you had to lie your ass off like a champ now.

"I understand. What can I do to help you, Detective?" you asked, hoping it was not too late to repair your image of cooperation.

"I know this is going to be an extremely difficult subject to talk about, but… anything you can tell us about your ex-domestic partner, Joshua Earnhardt, will be extremely helpful for our investigation."

 _Investigation?_ How long had that been going on? What kind of information did they have? How much did they know?

"Uh, yeah, sure," you stammered, looking away from the detective under the guise of shyness as you wracked your brain for information that wouldn't indict you. "We've been together for a while. Uh, a year and a half? I think. And it was… fine at first."

"I see. Do you mind if I record this?" he asked as he pulled a recorder out of his pocket. For a moment you wavered, wondering if you should take Ward's advice and get a lawyer. You knew that would be the smart thing to do, but if you could throw them off your scent right now, you might be able to get the Hand to leave you alone too. Bringing an attorney into this just sounded too messy.

Besides, a lawyer could help protect you in a courtroom. They couldn't do a damn thing to shield you from the Hand.

"Go ahead."

"Thank you. Now, you said it was 'fine' at first. When did it become less than fine?"

"Um… a couple months ago, maybe? Josh started acting… different."

"How so?"

Delving into your personal life was harder than you thought.

"He wasn't himself. He used to joke around a lot, but it was like he lost his sense of humor. He started to get angry. Stayed out all hours of the night and returned in the morning, upset and moody." So far, everything you told had been the truth. And it made you realize how bad it really had been.

"And then… there was the yelling. We would start to argue a lot, about things that didn't even matter. It was like he was looking for a fight. Finally, one night he um… he shoved me against the wall, and I left." You looked down at the bed covers, and found you had a handful in each fist. You took a deep, calming breath, and continued on. "That's when I went to stay with a friend of mine."

"And your friend's name?" From the way he asked the question, Detective Mahoney already knew but was stating it for the record.

"Danny—uh, Daniel Rand. We, um, knew each other since we were kids."

"Is that how you know Mr. Meachum as well?"

"Yes," you reluctantly acknowledged. "They helped get me back on my feet. They also went with me back to Josh's apartment to get my things, and… I owe them a lot." You weren't sure why you added that last part. Maybe it was something you just needed to say aloud. "I thought things with Josh were normal until… until he broke into my apartment and attacked me."

"Would you be willing to give me a detailed account of what happened?"

You closed your eyes, steeling yourself. Saying you had been attacked, in vague terms, was something you could do. Having to relive the experience over again? You weren't sure if you were strong enough for that.

Just do it, you told yourself. Do it, just this once, and get it over with. Bury that fucking bastard so you can start to move on with your life and worry about what happens next.

"Miss?"

"Yes. Just… give me a moment."

"Of course."

Finally, you opened your eyes to stare across the bed rail at the detective, who was now seated close to the hospital bed. His expression was expectant, but not as uncaring as you thought it would be. This was probably a tale he had heard many times. Maybe not as violent as your specific circumstances, but violent men and the victims they left behind was something he confronted every day.

You told him nearly everything. About waking up to Josh pointing a gun in your face, dragging you into the living room when the bell rang. How Danny was at the door and you sent him away, but Ward… Ward must have realized something was wrong, and came back. And then you hit Josh in the ribs so he missed when he fired on Ward, and then you were trapped in the bedroom. How he had the knife and he… threatened to kill you and the people you cared about.

What you didn't tell Detective Mahoney was that Josh had mentioned a "Madame Gao" and his involvement in the Hand. You didn't tell him about Danny's mysterious glowing fist turning your bedroom door into splinters either.

"Thank you, Miss (Y/N)," he concluded when you were done speaking. "I really appreciate how difficult this must be for you. I just have a few more questions, and then we'll be done. Okay?"

You nodded, trying to push the hard lump down your throat. You had managed to recount the tale without breaking down, but your eyes still stung with the possibility of future tears. You hadn't had the opportunity to fully process what had happened yet, and you knew some point soon, you would have to.

"Did Joshua tell you where he worked?" Detective Mahoney asked, and you were almost caught off-guard by the change of subject. Wait, no, that made perfect sense if Mahoney was trying to get to the real heart of the matter – how this was connected to the Hand.

"He… he told me he worked as a courier for Belpratt and Song. What does that have to do with what he did to me?" you asked in a baffled tone. Detective Mahoney sighed, rubbing a hand across his closely-shaven head.

"We have evidence pointing to the possibility that Joshua was involved in… criminal activity." He looked back up at you, his eyes sharp. "Did he give any indication to you that he was involved with organized, illegal activities?"

"What?" you asked in a surprised whisper, putting your flimsy acting skills to the test. You hadn't lied this much since you had been a child pretending to be a dinosaur. "Organized, illegal activity? Like… the mob, or something?"

"Something like that," the detective agreed vaguely. He was still studying you, like a bug under a magnifying glass, but you maintained your expression of confusion and shock.

"N-no. If he was involved in something like that, he never told me. I…" you gulped, tried to find the right words, and then asked, "Is… is that why he hurt me?"

"You did nothing wrong," Mahoney said immediately, his tone sympathetic and warm again, which somehow made it worse. "Whatever Joshua may or may not have been mixed up with has nothing to do with you. We just wanted to see if you knew anything that could help us with another case."

"Oh… I'm… sorry I can't be more helpful," you stammered. "I'm just… it's kind of a lot to take in, you know? I guess I thought I knew him better than I actually did." That last line was genuine and authentic, and you were glad you weren't ending the conversation with Mahoney with a blatant lie.

"I understand. And I'm sorry this happened to you. Here." He pulled out a business card from the inside of his jacket and handed it to you. "If you remember anything else, or have any questions or concerns for me, you can reach me there."

"Thank you," you responded while looking at him, truly meaning it. He did seem like a decent person, and you felt bad for the lying. But as much as Mahoney seemed trustworthy, you didn't think the NYPD had the resources to protect you from the Hand, even if they believed your gut feeling that you were still in danger.

 _Maybe it really is paranoia,_ you wondered as Detective Mahoney left the hospital room. Maybe you really should tell them everything you know. _Maybe._ But if you wanted to give them information at a later date, you could still do that. But once you gave information about the Hand… you could never take it back.

Ward's entrance into the hospital room made your morbid thoughts flee as effectively as darkness before a light. His lips were twisted into a wry grin as he said, "You have a visitor."

Your heart lifted at the belief that Danny had finally come to see you, but when you saw who it was, your heart surged with a different kind of joy. He wore a puppy-dog expression that could almost put Danny to shame.

"Foggy!"

"Hey…" he spoke so quietly as he rushed to your bedside, as if he was afraid you would break apart if he spoke too loudly. "Hey, are you okay? I heard what happened, I wanted to see you sooner but they wouldn't let me. Oh, my God, are you okay? I mean, course you're not okay. Is there anything I can get you? Tea? Coffee? I can go down to the bodega and smuggle you a sandwich if you want. I am a champion sandwich-smuggler."

"I'm better, Foggy. Thank you." You could stop the smile on your face, grateful you had such caring friends looking after your well-being. " _Really,_ the doctors say I'll be ready to go home tomorrow," you added when he looked like he was about ready to start crying.

You spent the rest of the evening with Foggy and Ward. Not a bad way to end the day considering how it started. You still weren't exactly sure how you were alive, and that your injury wasn't as bad as you clearly remembered it being. Danny's absence was a growing source of concern in your mind, and the knowledge that the Hand was still out there was a constant black cloud over your mood.

Once visiting hours were over, and Foggy left with the promise of visiting you again soon ("I promised board games so I will be delivering board games"), Ward seemed reluctant to go. Ward had never been the clingy-type, but considering what had happened, it was understandable.

Unfortunately, and for probably the only time in your entire life, you were anxious for him to leave.

"I'll be fine, I promise .I just need some sleep, Ward. I'm exhausted. You'll come see me tomorrow morning, yes?"

"Yes," he agreed with a slow smile. "With coffee and bagels."

"Perfect," you said, returning the smile even as the guilt ate you up inside. But you had a plan now, formulated as you had been sitting there all evening with Foggy and Ward. You knew what you had to do to protect them in case anyone from the Hand was coming for you.

Ward gave you one last embrace, and if you held on a little longer than was appropriate, you couldn't be blamed. You didn't know how successful your plan would be, and if it was successful…

"Goodnight, Ward."

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."

You waited a full hour, just in case. You watched the clock hands tick by, simultaneously too fast and too slow. Once the hour struck 9 p.m., you pressed the call button and told the nurse what you needed. They called the doctor. He seemed reluctant, but agreed, and signed your release. You were also told "Mr. Meachum" had brought in a clean change of clothing for you, which could be found in the closet. A new flush of guilt washed over you, but you continued onward with the plan. You got dressed, opened the envelope that contained your wallet and apartment keys, and checked yourself out of the hospital.

The desk called you a cab, and while you waited in the foyer, you couldn't help but self-consciously check your surroundings. People coming in and out sometimes glanced at you, their gazes lingering over your neck bandages, but no one seemed to take too much of an interest beyond that. By the time the cab arrived, you were ready to flee.

You arrived at your apartment building without incident. But when you saw the police tape covering your door, you froze. Until this moment, it hadn't really hit home for you what it all meant until you had returned to the place where it had happened.

Numbly, you cut through the tape using the jagged edge of your key. You slipped it into the lock, turned the bolt, and opened the door. Turning on the light, you didn't see much of a difference in the living room and kitchen. At least, until you saw the bullet hole embedded in the doorjamb.

The slow walk through your apartment felt odd, as if you weren't in your apartment but in a movie set. Here, the scene with the knife-reveal played out. The damsel realized she was about to die. Then the confrontation with the friends who were too late to save her. Now the chase into the bedroom.

The bedroom…

Splinters still covered the floor and bed. But more disturbing than that was the dark stain coating your carpet. It took you a moment to realize what it was, since you expected it to be bright red, not a dark, sullen brown.

The blood was also along the wall, painted in an artful arc. You didn't remember that part. Or, maybe you did? It had been surreal then, and it was surreal now. There was so much of it, as the initial clean-up crew could only do so much.

 _I should have died,_ you thought faintly. _I should have. So why didn't I?_

Your next stop was the bathroom. You just stared at yourself above the sink, not recognizing the person staring back. You were pale, and faint bruising was seen just beyond the edge of the bandage. After they had changed your bandage a the hospital, one of the nurses had held a mirror up so you could see what it looked like. A faint, angry red line, but not the deadly gash it should have been.

You stared at it now as you changed your bandage, your fingers moving with mechanical motions. You were stalling and you knew it. You plan was idiotic, but it was the only course of action you could take at this point. If you were wrong… no harm done, except a little worry on Ward and Danny's part.

And if you were right… you were about to save their lives.

You replaced the bandage, went to your hallway closet to grab a duffle bag, and threw as much clothing into it as you could fit from what was left of your bedroom. Once the toiletries were packed next, you looked into the bedroom and saw something in the corner of your room, wedged between the wall and the bed. You gave the blood stain a wide berth as you went to investigate, and found two things there.

Your phone, the glass screen shattered by the impact that had destroyed your dresser, and… the stuffed animal Ward had won for you as teenagers on Coney Island. A small, light blue dragon. You hugged it to your chest, squeezing your eyes shut as you fought back the emotions straining to escape.

Not yet, not yet. You weren't done yet. So you put the dragon into your suitcase, zipped it up, and left your apartment. You didn't take a cab or the train. You simply walked along the crowded Manhattan streets, enjoying the crisp night air against your face. You had gotten maybe three blocks before it happened.

A large, pitch black SUV pulled up to the curb. A man in a dark suit and dark sunglasses got out of the front passenger seat, and stared right at you. His hands were crossed in front of him, and you saw the red tattoo on the back of his hand. It was of a jagged serpent.

Josh had had the exact same tattoo, as had the man near the hospital ambulance entrance. You had been partially conscious at the time, strapped to a gurney with two paramedics wheeling you toward the emergency entrance. He had worn a dark suit with sunglasses too, a cell phone pressed to his head where a red serpent tattoo had been easily viewable.

That's when you had known the Hand was watching. You just hadn't known they were coming for you this quickly. The game plan had been to grab a bite to eat, rent a hotel room, and wait. Apparently the Hand didn't want to wait that long.

The man in the suit opened the back passenger door, looking up at you expectantly from where you had stopped on the sidewalk, your fingers clenching the handle tightly.

 _Be brave,_ a small voice in your head spoke encouragingly. You took a deep breath and got your feet moving again, towards the black SUV. You didn't even flinch as the man took your suitcase from you. You simply got into the backseat, your heart leaping into your throat as the Hand member shut the door, leaving you in darkness.


	20. Chapter 20

They didn't take you far, for which you were grateful. You weren't sure exactly where you were, just somewhere in midtown Manhattan, and the office building that was your destination looked like any other. You stood on the sidewalk after exiting the SUV, staring up at the bland, innocuous building. If you were going to die, surely it would be someplace that looked a little more impressive than this.

But then again, that's what the Hand did best. Hide in plain sight.

The man who had taken your duffle bag earlier held it now, and he did not give it back to you. Instead, two men joined you on the sidewalk, holding their positions on either side of you as they guided you toward the building's lobby. Your feet felt like anchors and your head was bobbing on the ocean's surface, but you somehow complied and followed along, guided by the light touches on your arms. You were too afraid to even flinch away; instead, tension made your muscles taut as steel ropes. Your body was reacting to what your mind refused to acknowledge. Your chances of leaving the building alive were not promising.

The lobby was deceptively pleasant – gold trim and lavish red that gave it an air of genuine decadence. You and your menacing entourage passed the desk, where the guards didn't even glance in your direction. The elevator was spacious, carpeted, and well-lit by a miniature chandelier on the ceiling. Whoever owned this building had a flare for the dramatic.

Your eyes strayed to the elevator dial above the door, watching it creep from left to right. You weren't surprised as the lift came to a halt at the top floor – the penthouse suite. There was no room for any other emotions except a pit of existential dread sank through your stomach as the elevator dinged and the doors parted.

* * *

 _"What do you mean 'she's gone'?"_

Under any other circumstance, Ward would have fumed at Danny for using such an accusatory tone at him. The problem was, it was entirely warranted, and Ward could feel guilt snaking through his stomach like a den of treacherous vipers.

"I mean, she just disappeared," Ward said through gritted teeth. "I told you, I put Shannon on the hospital to make sure she didn't check herself out." Which of course, she had done, because if that woman was anything she was _stubborn_. "He followed her back to her apartment, she left with a duffle bag, and then he lost track of her after that. She was on the sidewalk one second, gone the next."

 _"How could he lose track of her, Ward? People don't just vanish!"_

Ward couldn't keep the sharpness out of his voice as he snapped, "Maybe if you had been at the hospital with her instead of chasing after the Hand down dark alleys, she wouldn't have left to begin with."

 _"I'm trying to protect her, Ward!"_

"Well, so am I!" he responded just as hotly. Ward raised a hand to his forehead and rubbed hard. The urge to drink was overwhelming, but he needed to stay sober and alert until… until she was back, safe and sound.

 _"I know,"_ Danny's voice answered, softer than before. _"I know you are. But tracking down the Hand and making sure they don't hurt her again is my way of helping."_

"We don't know that they're involved, Danny." All the fire was gone from his voice now, replaced by frayed nerves and exhaustion. He stared out of the windows of his apartment, still fully dressed despite the late hour. He had been in his study, catching up on work when he had gotten the call from Shannon. Ward knew sleep was beyond him now, and it was this thought in mind that led him toward the front entryway where his coat was hanging. "Most likely, she's hiding."

 _"But why? Why would she do that, unless she's running from the Hand?"_ Danny insisted, fully convinced he was right. Ward sighed loudly as he pulled on his coat, juggling the phone from one hand to the other as he did so.

"Because, Danny, this isn't the first time she's disappeared."

 _"It… it isn't?"_

"No, it's not." Ward took a deep breath, staring at his keys on the side table before finally scooping them up and heading out the door. "I think I know where she is." And then he told Danny where to meet him.

* * *

After being thoroughly and almost invasively searched, both with a wand and a pat-down, you were led into a large atrium. The domed ceiling and walls were made of glass, so you could see out across all of Manhattan. It was an exceedingly breathtaking view, until you saw what was in the middle of the room: a glowing pond, filled with long red, gold, and silver fish. They were beautiful, but the shape of their heads and eyes gave you the impression that they were looking at you as potential dinner.

It took you a moment to see the woman beside the pond. She was short in stature, elderly, and leaned on a cane. She had been so still that she had escaped your notice, distracted as you had been by the view and the fish.

The three men who had been your escort had vanished, leaving you on the dais a few feet away from the small woman. You peered at her curiously, but could only see the silhouette of her face against the shimmering light of the pond. When she finally spoke, her voice was almost kind. Soft, in a way that made you want to listen.

"There is… something about them that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Beautiful but unsettling." She looked up at you when you didn't speak, confusion knotting your brow, and she gave an amused smile. "The fish."

"Oh," you responded. "Uh… yes."

"They've been around for tens of millions of years," she continued, apparently not bothered by your lack of willingness to converse. "At least since the Cretaceous period. They're called arowanas, also known as the Dragon Fish." She gave a small chuckle, as if amused by something. "They do not do well with others of their kind, but if given enough space, such as this pool, then they will tolerate each other. It is a dragon's nature to be solitary, so when one seeks company… I find it very curious."

The woman was definitely staring at you now, her eyes sharp with what you suspected was curiosity.

"I-I'm sorry," you stammered nervously. "I don't understand." You really didn't. You had expected to be tortured, murdered, or at least threatened by some big brute wanting to know how much you knew and what you had told the police.

Instead, you were having a mysterious but otherwise painless conversation with a strange but pleasant elderly woman. Said woman continued to watch you, and then she moved closer, one hand behind her back while the other was wrapped around her black cane. You watched her cautiously, getting the feeling that despite her pleasantries, this woman was a lot more sinister than she appeared. She was clearly someone important to the Hand, and you didn't get that position in a criminal organization unless you had committed a few sordid deeds.

You were sharply pulled from your thoughts as the woman reached up a hand and grabbed your chin. Her grip was much firmer than you would have imagined from such small hands, but she turned your head to the side with ease, examining the bandage around your neck with her dark eyes.

"I did not think you could leave the hospital so soon, but the power of the Iron Fist should never be underestimated. In fact, it is because of that power that you are here and not in the hospital morgue."

"I'm sorry?" Your heart fluttered with fear, not understanding what you should be afraid of, but her odd words did nothing to calm you. The woman released your chin, her head slightly tilted as she stared at you a moment, calculating or studying, you weren't sure which.

"My mistake. I thought you were more aware of your situation than you clearly are." She gave a careless shrug of her head, and then indicated the plush, cushioned benches nearby. "Please, sit with me."

You weren't under any delusions that this was a simple request, so you followed her to the benches. The wood frame was painted a smooth white color, while the cushions had a gold, filigree design. You were afraid to even touch them, suspecting they cost more than your entire college tuition. But you were more afraid to offend the small woman, so you sat down beside her, a comfortable distance away. That's when you noticed the tea set on the nearby round table. It looked almost exactly like the set Danny had had in his home. A _gaiwan_ , you remembered. The reminder sent an ache through your chest.

"Do you know why you're here?" the woman asked as she went about preparing the tea, her delicate hands moving with precision and unaged grace.

"Yes," you responded flatly, continuing to stare at the tea pot and missing your friends. Danny's warm laughter and Ward's amused half-grin. You would give anything for those things again, but you knew you didn't deserve them. Not really.

"Oh?" she asked, a faint note of interest in her voice. "Tell me, then."

"You want to know how much I told the police about Josh's involvement with the Hand," you answered, swallowing hard to ride your throat of the lump that had appeared. "I told them I had no idea he was working for your… organization. I didn't tell them anything at all."

"I am quite aware of what you said during your questioning with Detective Mahoney," she said with a light smile, her eyes focused on the steaming cup in her hand. "We would not be having this conversation now if you had done otherwise. Tea?"

You blinked, caught off-guard by the clear threat followed by the polite offer.

"Uh…"

"Here," she said, placing a second cup of tea in front of you. Her eyes glittered with amusement as she noted your expression. "It is going to rain tonight, and hot tea is the perfect remedy to ward off the chill."

You cast an involuntary glance upwards through the dome towards the sky, but you didn't see any clouds. You looked back down at the tea, knowing she could have easily poisoned it despite the fact it came from the same pot she had just drained her tea from. Then again, if the Hand had wanted you dead, they could have done it a thousand ways before now. You took the small, glass cup in your hand and blew on the liquid before taking a sip. It had a citrus taste, and thankfully tasted nothing like Danny's tea. That would have been too much for you to bear.

"I did not bring you here to ask questions I already know the answers to," the woman said after a moment, during which she had silently savored her tea while you had watched her out of the corner of your eye. Now, she had half-turned toward you, a rather somber expression on her face now.

"I brought you here to apologize to you."

You nearly choked on your tea.

"…I'm sorry, what? You want to… apologize?"

"Yes," she said with a small nod. "This business with Mr. Earnhardt is most unpleasant, and it is my hope we can put it behind us permanently."

You let out a sharp, startled laugh. The older woman raised her eyebrows, and you had to set the tea cup back on the table. Your hands were suddenly shaking too hard to hold it without spilling the liquid.

"My ex-boyfriend tried to kill me. I would say that's more than simply unpleasant." You froze, realizing you were sarcastically back-talking a prominent member of the Hand. You cleared your throat, hoping to save face as you added, "I appreciate… your apology, but I don't… what happened is Josh's fault. Even if he was working for you at the time."

"He was not," the woman spoke curtly, also setting her tea down on the table. She fixed you with a stern expression and said, "We let Mr. Earnhardt go. He was unstable, careless, and was clearly becoming a risk for us."

"Oh," you said, not knowing what else to respond with.

"We suspected Mr. Earnhardt might also be a danger to those around him, but… well," she gave a light chuckle. "I figured with you being such close friends of the Iron Fist, you would not be in any danger. Clearly, I made an error in judgement."

"Wait, Iron Fist?" The woman had mentioned that phrase twice now, and still you had no idea what it meant. "What's an 'Iron Fist'?"

The woman gave you such a piercing stare that you shifted uncomfortably.

"Did he really not tell you? I am surprised. Or perhaps, you are not as close to Danny Rand as I thought."

 _"Danny?"_ You couldn't keep the sharp concern out of your voice. "What does he have to do with any of this?" And then… something tugged at the back of your mind. A memory, one surrounded by fear and blood, but it was there. Josh, wanting to prove his worth to a Madame Gao by killing "her most hated enemies." Another memory followed – Danny bursting through the solid wood of your bedroom door, his fist lit with a fiery glow that was as beautiful as it was impossible.

You came back to yourself, blinking slowly, realizing you had gone silent for several seconds. The woman stared at you, her hands folded in her lap patiently, as if understanding what had just happened.

"You're Madame Gao," you said in a breathless voice. "Josh mentioned you before… before he cut me. He said he would kill Danny and Ward after me, to prove his worth by killing your enemies." Panic struck you as you realized how _stupid_ you were. If what Josh had said was true, you just walked into the lion's den. For whatever reason, Gao might want to hurt Danny and Ward, and you had just given her the tool to do it. Yourself.

A slow smile spread across Madame Gao's features. "I would hardly call Danny my enemy. His death, as well as the death of Mr. Meachum, would be of no benefit to me. In fact, they are more useful to me alive."

You stared at the older woman, unable to comprehend what she was saying. Danny and Ward, somehow involved with this woman? With _the Hand?_ No, it didn't make any sense. They would never be involved with some shady, murderous criminal organization.

"You do not believe me," Madame Gao stated perceptively. "I assure you, I know Danny Rand and Ward Meachum very well. Perhaps, better than you do."

You shook your head, to deny her words and to try and shake the confusing thoughts from your head. She was lying. Your friends had nothing to do with the Hand. They would never—

"Daniel Rand is a member of an ancient order of warrior-monks," Madame Gao said, slightly straightening her spine. The motion made you pay attention. "Protectors of a secret gateway. The details of their history are not important. What _is_ important is that Danny has been training to be a soldier since he was ten years-old. Whatever he told you about his absence… was a lie." She spoke in such a self-assured, confident voice that despite your desire to block her out, you couldn't help but listen to her words.

"Danny wouldn't lie to me," you said in defense of your friend, but your denial sounded weak even to you. The sly smile on Madame Gao's face told you she heard it too.

"He has been lying to you ever since he returned. He did not tell you where he has been, what he has done, and what he is. He is the Immortal Iron Fist. He is the Dragon, the protector of the Gate." She paused, studying you a moment before continuing onwards. "The Immortal Iron Fist is the sworn enemy of the Hand. Danny once had the opportunity to destroy us, and he chose not to. I know all of this is very confusing, but all you need to understand is that Danny is aware of our presence… and he does nothing to eradicate us, even though he could."

You said nothing, eyes unblinking as you looked past her to the glowing, dreamy pond. Danny knew about the Hand? Did Ward know, too? No… I couldn't be possible…

Again, it was as if the woman could read your mind, because she said, "And the Meachums have long been allies to our cause. Ward's father and I were… well, perhaps 'partners' is not an accurate term, but we worked together to make Rand profitable for both him and the Hand for the better part of the last decade."

The startling words brought you back to the moment, your gaze returning to hers as your brows furrowed in confusion.

"What are you talking about? Harold has been dead for almost thirteen years."

Madame Gao raised her eyebrows once more and said, "Ward has not been truthful with you, either? I assure you, Harold was alive and well, until recently anyway. Murdered by his own son. But considering how Harold treated him, I am not surprised. I'm just surprised the boy had it in him."

You could feel it, your mind slowing down from the insanity of the information you were given. This woman was lying, she had to be. What reason did you have to trust her?

 _What reason would she have to lie?_ a small voice asked in response.

"You consort with interesting characters, (Y/N). Liars and murderers, to be sure, but I suppose they have their reasons to keep the truth from you. A misguided attempt at protecting you from the darkness in their lives, perhaps." Madame Gao's statement was followed by a low rumble, and you both looked toward the sky to catch the lingering flickers of lightning in the overhead clouds. It looked like she had been right about the rain after all.

"Hmm. The storm is coming sooner than I thought," Madame Gao observed, her voice suddenly serious as she drew her dark eyes back down to yours. "You had better return home before it arrives."

"You're letting me go?" you asked faintly. The older woman gave you a small smile, almost sympathetic.

"My men will take you back to where they found you."

"I would prefer to walk. If that's okay," you added nervously. All you wanted to do was get out of there while avoiding any more intimidating SUV rides. Plus, you really needed the walk to give you a chance to process everything. Your brain felt like it had crashed a while back, and everything Gao had told you since then had simply slid across your mind like a duck on a frozen pond.

"Of course," Madame Gao said courteously. She slowly got to her feet, using her cane to help her, and a tattooed man dressed all in black walked over and stood beside her. She turned to him and he bent so she could whisper something in his ear. He nodded and walked back towards the entrance to the atrium.

"I trust you will be discreet about our meeting, especially where the police are concerned?" she asked, her demeanor so composed she could have been talking about the weather. You had little doubt of what that meant. _Snitch and you disappear._

"Though I imagine you will have plenty of questions for Mr. Rand and Mr. Meachum. You may tell them everything if you like, but I assure you, we will be gone without a trace before your friends arrive."

At the mention of Ward and Danny, your stomach clenched painfully and a wave of nausea swept over you. You said nothing to the woman, even after she wished you safe travels, her smile open and kind. You knew that was a lie too.

Your duffle bag was returned to you, and you were escorted out of the building by the men you no longer gave a second thought toward. You couldn't feel anything, really. Not fear, or anxiety, or anger. You were numb and insensate to everything around you, your mind shielding itself in a pathetic attempt to protect itself from the knowledge that you had already gained. Your feet were on the pavement before you knew it, and the ominous feeling of a coming storm was heavy in the air.

 _You had better return home before it arrives,_ she had said. But where was home? Not at Danny or Ward's. Not in your own apartment, turned into a crime scene before you could even make it your home. You were back where you had started – walking along the streets of New York with nowhere to go. No one to turn to.

You didn't know where your feet were carrying you, and you didn't much care. You walked along the sidewalk, sometimes jostled by a hurried Manhattanite running home, and you didn't even react as one of them nearly knocked you into the street. You simply picked up your duffle bag and kept walking. And before you know it, you were surrounded by quiet darkness, the sounds of the city muffled through the trees. You were in Riverside Park. Of course you would be here, it made sense. This was where you ran when you could no longer think and needed to be left alone.

It was completely empty, and the lack of other human beings coupled by the rumbles of thunder made you feel like you were on the only person on earth.

Good. You didn't want anyone else with you. No one would find you here.

The rain began to fall as you found your favorite bench, nestled under a large elm tree but turned toward the Hudson River. You dropped your duffle bag on the ground and plopped onto the bench beside it, exhaustion hitting your bones almost at the same moment intrusive thoughts began to crowd your mind.

 _Why did you lie to me, Danny?_

 _Did Ward really kill his father?_

 _Did I ever really know either of them?_

 _Why didn't they trust me?_

Your mind gave one last, valiant effort to deny the damning questions. But even as you tried to resist it, another part of your brain recalled small inconsistencies. Ward clearly avoiding the topic of why Danny wasn't visiting you in the hospital. Danny and Ward speaking in low, conspiratorial tones as you dozed on Danny's couch. Danny getting nervous when you said you wanted to leave his apartment on your own. You overhearing Ward casually telling Danny that his father used to beat him, but never mentioning a word of it to you.

The rain droplets were coming down harder now, and you absentmindedly opened your duffle bag to grab your jacket. Instead, your fingers curled around something soft and fuzzy. You looked down to see a little blue dragon looking up at you, its eyes wide and innocent. You pulled it out of your bag and stared down at it. The thunder rumbled closer.

 _Family,_ Ward had mused with a bitter smile on his face, the day in the park when he had told you about Joy. _It means less than you would think._

You had a sudden, overwhelming urge to throw the toy he had won for you into the Hudson. Your fingers clenched dug into plushy as anger and betrayal washed over you, as ominous as the lightning that flashed overhead. But then the sky opened up and the cold, fat drops turned your anger into despair.

You hugged the blue dragon to your chest and bent forward, curling in on yourself as the torrential downpour came down, wishing it could wash everything away to leave nothing behind.

* * *

Gao could see that her second-in-command, Manitou, was discomforted by the idea of letting the girl go. But Gao wasn't worried. She rarely was.

"What if she tells Rand where we are? Or the cops?"

"Let her," she said with a flippant shrug. She was staring at the pond of arowanas, marveling at their sleek bodies and tapered, deadly heads. "If I had silenced her permanently, what do you think the Iron Fist would have done? He would have avenged her death with the blind fury only evocative of losing a loved one. And on the other side, Meachum could make things difficult with our Midland operation. No," she said, smoothing out the front of her dress coat. "Better to leave the girl alive."

Manitou didn't argue. He might not have seen the purpose behind Gao's actions, but he was loyal to the end. And he wasn't an idiot, unlike that Earnhardt boy. _That_ could have turned into a very messy situation, but Gao had worked it to her advantage, more than she could have ever dreamed.

 _Yes, better to leave her alive for now. After all, why kill your enemies when they can destroy each other from the inside?_


	21. Chapter 21

_When the phone rang, Ward knew something was wrong. No one called on Sunday, and certainly not so late._

 _Joy didn't even bother looking up from her Game Boy Color from where she was lounging on the couch. She had changed into something more comfortable after that day's earlier events, but Ward still wore his suit, tie removed. He found he kind of liked the feel of it. It made him feel important._

 _"Phone's ringing," she said, disinterested as she continued to mash the keys of her handheld game._

 _"No shit," Ward grumbled, and Joy stuck her tongue out at him while her eyes were still glued to the screen. Ward picked up the cordless phone, not even getting up from the living room armchair. He did, however, sit up straight when he heard the voice on the line._

 _"Hello?"_

 ** _"Hi. Is this Ward?"_**

 _"Yes," he answered vaguely after a moment, not immediately recognizing the man on the phone._

 ** _"Is your father home?"_**

 _Ward looked toward the staircase that led to the upper floor._

 _"He's busy. May I ask who is calling?"_

 _There was a click on the line, and Ward thought for a moment the man had hung up on him. But the man finally spoke, his tone deepened with concern._

 ** _"That's okay, I was hoping to reach you anyway. I'm (Y/N)'s father, and I'm calling to see if… if you've seen her tonight."_**

 _A dozen things raced through Ward's mind of what to say._ Pretend you don't know her. Say you really shouldn't talk to people you don't know. Hang up the phone.

 _Instead, Ward asked, "Is everything okay?"_

 _Joy stopped playing her game, turning to stare at him, her big blue eyes round with interest at his worried tone._

 _A sigh came through the other end of the phone call._

 ** _"Her mother and I can't find her. We thought maybe she might be with you. She's been acting odd since… well, since the funeral."_**

 _Ah, yes. The funeral. Hours previously, Ward had pretended she wasn't his best friend as they lowered their other best friend's empty casket into the ground. He had wanted to put his arm around her shoulder and comfort her, but his father's presence made that impossible. Ward had remained cold and distant from her the entire funeral. It had been an extremely hard day on Ward, but he couldn't imagine what it had been like for her._

 _"No, I haven't seen her since the funeral. But I'll let you know if she makes contact, Mr. Harper."_

 _Joy raised an eyebrow at her brother using his "older person" voice. Ward wasn't sure why it was so important that he make a mature impression of his friend's father. Maybe so he would gain his trust in finding their daughter. He was already beginning to suspect he knew where she had gone._

 ** _"Thank you, Ward. We really appreciate it. Sorry to bother you so late. We're just… very worried."_**

 _"I understand," Ward responded in a low tone, suddenly worried his own father would hear him from upstairs. They said their goodbyes, and Ward was already heading to the foyer to grab the car keys. He had gotten his license a few weeks ago, and it would be quicker to take the car than catch a cab or the bus. He didn't want to risk calling the family chauffeur._

 _"Where are you going, Ward?"_

 _The quiet authority of his father's voice made him stop dead in his tracks, a thrill of apprehension making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He slowly turned to face Harold, his movements cautious as his tensed muscles made it more difficult to move._

 _"Thought I would go grab some food," Ward said, the lie leaving his lips without the natural ease of a born liar. He had never been very good at lying, and his father's ice-cold stare made him feel like Harold would see through any deception anyway._

 _"The fridge is full of food," Harold pointed out in a perfectly calm voice, placing his hands in the pockets of his dark trousers._

 _"Yes, sir," Ward responded quietly._

 _"Does this have anything to do with that phone call?"_

 _"N-no." Ward mentally cursed at the shake in his voice._

 _"Don't lie to me, Ward." The softness in his father's voice was more terrifying than any shout. But Ward stood his ground as the older man descended the staircase, movements methodical like a confident predator. He came to a stop in front of Ward, his hands in his pockets with a look on his face that would look like open curiosity to anyone else._

 _To Ward, it looked like a shark's still expression before it moved in for the kill._

 _"I heard your phone conversation with Mr. Harper," Harold explained with a small smile, causing Ward's heart to plummet in his chest. The click on the line. His father had heard everything. "I didn't realize you were so close to the Harper family. And here I thought that… girl… was a friend of Danny's." His unsettling smile grew a little larger as he added, "Danny boy always did have a habit of picking up filthy strays."_

 _Ward could feel the sweat breaking out on his palms, the car keys clenched in his left hand so tightly he wondered if it would break the skin._

 _"Dad?" Joy's voice interrupted from the living room entryway. Harold's face immediately transformed into a kind, loving mask as he turned to his daughter._

 _"Joy, honey. Why don't you head upstairs. It's almost bedtime."_

 _"Okay," she answered with a smile of such lightness that Ward wondered if he had ever been so unburdened at her age. He doubted it._

 _Joy gave their father a hug before heading up the stairs, game console in hand as she disappeared from sight. Ward hadn't spoken or really moved during the entire interaction, waiting for the doting father persona to slip away. It did, as easily as it had appeared._

 _His father extended his hand, palm upward, a smile still on his lips but absent from his eyes._

 _"Give me the keys."_

 _"No."_

 _His father blinked, surprised. So was Ward. He never talked back to his father, or disobeyed an order._

 _"Give me the keys, Ward."_

 _"I said no," Ward responded, his voice unexpectedly firm. "My friend is missing, and I'm going to go find her." He could feel his face molding into an expression of anger, something he had never outwardly shown his father before. "I would think you would appreciate the free PR. 'Son of Harold Meachum goes searching for missing, underprivileged inner city child—'"_

 _Harold struck so fast he barely saw the motion out of the corner of his eye – just the painful explosion along the side of Ward's face as his father hit him with the palm of his open-hand. Ward could barely breathe, raising his hand to his burning cheek as he stared at Harold with open shock._

 _Harold had never hit him before._

 _For a split second, his father appeared unnerved, staring down at his hand as if had acted of its own accord. And then he dropped his hand, his expression smoothing into a mask that Ward had seen a hundred times just before his father went to an important meeting._

 _"See what you make me do, Ward? You're acting like a child, unable to see the situation clearly through your emotions."_

 _Ward just stared at his father, hand still pressed to his cheek. There hadn't been an apology, a sign of remorse, nothing. Just his father going into business-mode and trying to control his son like he always did, as if Ward were nothing more than another troublesome asset to his precious company. And it was Harold's company now that the Rands were dead. For some reason, that sent a cold shiver down his spine._

 _"Oh, I think I can see clearly enough," Ward said at a volume that he thought might have been too quiet for Harold to hear. But by the rising movement of his eyebrows, his father had heard._

 _Ward turned on his heels and walked out of the house, expecting Harold to try to stop him or at least call out to his son. He did neither. Perhaps he thought Ward would change his mind and see reason. Or maybe he hoped the teenager would never return. Ward didn't know – sometimes he thought he was living with an inhuman creature who only called itself his father._

 _It didn't matter anyway. Ward wasn't going back home until he found her. Part of the blame rested on his head. He knew her, and Ward knew she wouldn't have run away if she had felt safe. Ward had ignored her when she had needed him the most, even if he had done it to protect her from his monster of a father._

 _Ward tried all the usual places first – places they would all hang out together. Joy was always excluded from the group, as Ward knew she couldn't keep a secret to save her life and she would go blathering to Harold at the first opportunity. Besides… he had wanted something of his own, apart from his responsibilities as a member of his family. Even Danny was tied to the Meachums in ways Ward couldn't ignore, but with her… he could be himself. He could be safe._

* * *

Ward was in danger of losing her again, 15 years later. That special, bright point of light he didn't deserve to have in his life. He hadn't been there when she most needed him, and she had almost died for it. Somehow she had disappeared under Shannon's watchful vigil, and Ward could feel his composure slipping as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. But he knew where to go this time. It was the same place he had found her all those years ago, sitting on a bench in Riverside Park. It hadn't been raining that night, but Ward couldn't deny the parallels as he sat in traffic, staring impatiently out of the windshield as fat raindrops began to run down the glass.

Despite the bravery she had put on in the hospital, Ward had no doubt his closest friend had run away because she was afraid. She had been nearly killed in a place that was supposed to be her new home, and Ward and Danny hadn't been there to stop it from happening. Guilt rattled around his ribcage like old ghosts, haunted by all the mistakes he had made and all the opportunities he had fucked up.

After he hurriedly parked his car, Ward powerwalked down the winding cement trail, ignoring the rain that managed to sneak its way through the overhead branches and down his shirt collar. He scanned the semi-darkness, fragmented by the falling rain and park lamps, and soon spotted her familiar silhouette on the bench. A powerful wave of relief washed over him. It was going to be okay. He could fix this. He could fix everything.

Ward called her name, practically running up to her, and she looked over her shoulder. He stopped dead in his tracks. When Ward had found his childhood friend all those years ago, she had appeared burdened and heavy with grief. She hadn't been crying though, and she had accepted Ward's arm around her shoulder without a word. Even has a child, she had been forced to be strong, burdened by the unfairness of the world.

Her expression now told a different story. Her eyes were red-rimmed, glassy, and filled with so much anger that Ward actually took a small step backwards. She was clutching something to her chest, but he was too distracted to wonder what it was.

This was all wrong. Something had happened. Why was she staring at him the way he would expect she would glare at Josh if he were still alive?

"What…" Ward started to say, his voice tight with confusion.

"You lied to me," she said in a deceptively quiet voice. "You lied to me about everything."

"Huh?" Ward couldn't understand what was happening. What could she possibly be talking about?

She rose to her feet, finally turning to face Ward. His eyes traveled downwards, noting she was almost entirely soaked. How long had she been out here? The question was put out of his mind as soon as he realized what she was holding.

"I met an old friend of yours today," she responded sarcastically. The bitter words felt wrong coming from someone ordinarily so filled with humor and warmth.

"Friend?" Ward asked with a raised eyebrow, daring to walk a step closer. His confusion was beginning to turn into annoyance. "You're not making any sense. Why did you leave the hospital? Why did you—"

"Gao," she interrupted in a low voice, staring at him dead on, as if the name explained everything. And God… it _did_ explain everything. Ward's stomach dropped to his feet, and he couldn't remember how to breathe.

 _Jesus Christ, what did Gao say to her?_ Ward wondered faintly as sudden fear gripped his throat.

"Are you okay?" he asked once he regained his voice. "Did she hurt you?"

The laugh she gave was sharp and without mirth.

"That woman isn't the one who's been lying while pretending to… to care about me."

Ward was rendered speechless. The world was upside-down and topsy-turvy. He couldn't understand how things had gotten so turned around since he had last spoken to her in the hospital. He wanted to ask her what Gao had told her, but from the hard pain in her eyes, the way she looked at him as if he was a dangerous, unwanted stranger… he could take an educated guess.

The storm was really coming down now, and the sound of raindrops hitting the trees overhead was the only sound Ward could hear. Even the noise of the city was absent, and it felt like they were the only two people in existence. It made him feel small and exposed.

Ward spoke her name, soft and pleading. Her lips quivered in response, but they remained in the hard, firm line that almost hurt to look at. Beneath that anger was a deep well of pain, and it killed him to know that he was the cause.

"I can… I can explain. I _will_ explain. Just… let's go back to Danny's, or—"

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she responded tightly, eyes glistening. Ward felt a sharp stab in his ribcage, but he knew he deserved it. He knew he deserved everything he was about to receive. Even knowing that, he still felt like his heart was about to shattered into a million pieces as she said:

"I can't be around you right now, Ward. Please, just go."

* * *

As soon as the words were spoken, you knew they were wrong. But you had never felt so angry in your entire life – betrayed by those you cared about the most. You hadn't even felt this way after Josh had attacked you. Probably because whatever trust you had had for him had been destroyed long ago, and you had known his capacity for harming you was always there beneath the surface. In a way, him trying to kill you had almost been… unsurprising.

But Danny? _Ward?_

You turned away from him, glad that your other friend wasn't there. You didn't know what you were going to do, but you knew by the end of the night, whatever was left of your friendship might be unsalvageable. Left in tattered pieces on the ground of your childhood places.

"I said leave me alone," you repeated when you did not hear the sound of Ward's receding footsteps. Instead, he seemed to be drawing closer.

"No."

Your shoulders tensed, and you clutched the blue dragon to your chest at his refusal. Something was building inside you, and you were terrified by how huge and overwhelming it felt.

"Fuck you, Ward. Go away," you snapped, the shakiness in your voice undermining the hard tone you were trying to take.

"Not until I explain everything."

"Oh, like what?" you snapped as you whirled around, having to crane your face upwards to meet his eye. "Explain how your father was actually alive all this time? And that you k-killed him?" Your voice faltered toward the end, your throat working tightly as your mind edged toward the abyss that would be your undoing.

"Tell me it's not true," you added in a quieter voice when Ward remained frozen and silent. You were almost pleading, begging him to tell you a different story; one you could believe that would restore faith in him.

But his dark eyes told you everything. The sadness in them was bone-deep, and there was no use in denying what the older woman had told you was the unbearable truth.

"Tell me she's a liar!" you choked out, Ward's face blurring as hot tears stung your eyes. He remained silent, and all you could hear was a peel of thunder, closer now as the rain really picked up. You gave a wounded noise, trying to steady your hitching breath as you cried out, "Say something! _Goddammit,_ Ward!"

A familiar voice cut through the air, forcing you to look past Ward. A dark silhouette was approaching, forming itself into Danny's soaked and worried visage as he got close enough to be lit by the nearest sidewalk lamp.

"There you are!" Danny called, his voice light with relief, until he saw how you and Ward were standing near each other, tensed and on the edge. His bright blue eyes dashed between the two of you, his brows twisting upwards into stark concern.

"Ward?" he asked questioningly, looking to the older man as if he had all the answers. "What's going on?"

But Ward didn't respond. He seemed like a deer stuck in the headlights, his expression helpless and lost. If you were a decent person, you thought, then his obvious distress should have made you feel sympathy for him, enough to hear him out. Instead, it only served to make you angrier. _You_ were the one who had been wronged in this situation, so why was _Ward_ acting like he was the one who had just been wounded?

"What's going on?" you repeated Danny's question, voice brittle and jagged like shards of glass. "I f-found out I don't know who either of you are. That this," you motioned toward the both of them, "is... is just an act. How long were you going to keep lying to me? Would you have ever told me the truth?"

Danny blinked, all confusion and innocence, and it made you _so_ angry.

"What are you talking about?" Danny took a step closer, beyond Ward's still form, and reached out a hand toward you. You knew it wasn't a hostile gesture, and all he wanted to do was pull you into a hug, because that's what Danny always did. But the thought of him wrapping you in his arms right now sent you to the edges of panic.

"Don't touch me!" you yelled shrilly, and you were shocked to hear your voice so close to hysteria. Danny jerked his hand back, his eyes wide and startled. Your haggard breaths were both cold and hot in your throat, and you could feel that thing bubbling up inside you again, ready to tear you into a million pieces. You had to let it out or it was going to destroy you.

"You lied to me, Danny! That woman told me what you are! S-some kind powered person, with gifts, or-or abilities. No, stop!" you snapped when he opened his mouth to interrupt. "I saw you! I saw your… your fist, break down my bedroom door. It was glowing, Danny. Your fist was gl-glowing."

A strangled sob escaped your throat, and once one had been released, more followed. A dam had burst inside you, and you started to cry for the second time that night, but still you didn't stop talking. You needed to release the accusations and blame and hurt and pain before it tore you to pieces.

"Gao said… you could have stopped the Hand… you could have… put them away… and Josh might have been in prison, or… he might have fled the city… and he never would have…"

The sobs were coming harder now, the tears running down your face to mix with the rain that dripped down your forehead and cheeks.

Danny didn't deny it, and that made you cry even harder. It was true, he could have done it, could have put an end to the Hand. He had this incredible power inside him, and yet he had allowed this evil organization to continue to operate in the city uninterrupted?

A small part of you knew this was unfair, and that Danny's abilities, whatever they were, had saved your life. Josh had cut your throat so deeply you remembered choking on your own blood. Danny had healed you somehow, and now you were throwing it back in his face. But you couldn't ignore the fact that he might not have had to save you in the first place if Josh had been out of the picture to begin with.

"It's a little more complicated than that," Danny finally answered. His normally bouncy curls were now flattened in wet strings against his head, and he looked even more like a sad puppy than usual. But somehow you held your ground, even when every instinct told you to say or do something to make that look on his face go away.

"Just… let us explain, please. You know we would never intentionally hurt you," Danny tried to explain. "Everything we did was for—"

"Do not tell m-me it was for my own good," you interrupted, voice hitching in distress. You felt like you were going to puke. "Do not tell me th-this was to protect me. Just… don't." You took a deep breath, trying to steady it as you looked between the two men who you had trusted more than your own flesh and blood family. More than you had ever trusted your ex, even during the best parts of the relationship.

You focused on Ward, needing him to understand why this hurt so much. It wasn't just the lying; it was the obvious lack of trust on his part. He kept so much from you, even after you had bared your soul to him. You had been sent to the hospital after nearly being killed by your ex-partner, and still he hadn't uttered a word of how his father had abused him too.

"Over the past f-few weeks, you have seen… all of the ugliness in my life. You've seen my shame, and my fear, and the darkness I hide from everyone else. You've seen me in my… my worst moments."

Ward hard-swallowed, but offered nothing in response. No defenses or excuses, but no explanations either. It was as if he wanted to speak, but the words couldn't physically move past his lips.

The disappointment you felt was almost worse than the pain.

"I… went to you for help," you spoke to Danny next, somehow meeting his eye despite the enormous pain you saw within its depths. "I went to you, because I knew you would be there for me. I knew you would help me, and I knew you were… safe."

Danny's only response was to say your name in a soft, pleading voice, but you shook your head, denying any comfort he wanted to offer you.

"And then this… woman, this leader of the Hand, this complete stranger, tells me these unbelievable things… and I want to deny them, I want to shut them out… But they're all true, aren't they?"

It wasn't really a question you truly wanted answered; you already knew the answer. But there was a question that had been voicing itself in your mind, over and over for the past hour.

"Why… didn't you tell me? W-why didn't you, either of you, trust me enough to… tell me?"

And there it was: the heart of the pain. You had thought your relationship had been founded on trust and honesty, and neither of them had extended that to you when it had mattered most.

Danny looked like he was at a loss for words. Ward was the epitome of miserable, strands of dark, wet hair framing his forehead. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, his face an alarmingly pale shade. You were sure you didn't look much better.

"I love you both so much," you finally said, voice broken as you looked between the two men. You couldn't yell and accuse and be angry anymore, so you let the simplicity of your words bare the nakedness and vulnerability of your pain. "Do you understand? You're the most important people in my life, and I… I can't…"

You faltered, at a loss for what to say, and you teetered on the edge of breaking beyond repair. A world without Ward and Danny in it was not something you could bear. The loss of them was something you couldn't fathom, even now after everything that had happened. You were sure the pain would kill you.

"I can't… do this…"

Do _what_ , you weren't sure. Continue having this conversation? Live a life without Danny and Ward? Go back to your old life knowing they had lied to you for so long? You didn't know. You couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, and you knew this was it. You could feel the cracks running through you, and the pressure inside was going to shatter you into a million pieces.

But then Danny reached forward and swept you into his arms. You didn't push him away. You surrendered to the warm strength of his arms around your shoulders, and finally stopped fighting. Not only did you allow him to press you against his chest, but you wrapped your arms around his ribcage and squeezed in return.

The tension inside you began to ease, but still maintained a painful pressure inside your chest. You knew why.

You raised your eyes upwards to find Ward still rooted to the spot, his expression like that of someone who felt they were intruding. He believed he didn't belonged there and seemed to have half a mind to leave.

Danny always was the one who reached out. Ward was the one who needed reaching.

You extended your arm outward, offering your hand to him. Ward did belong, and you needed him too. He hesitated a moment, staring uncertainly at your hand before meeting your eyes. For a moment you were terrified he really would turn and leave, but the fear was washed away with the rain as he moved to you and Danny.

As soon as he was within reach, you immediately wrapped your arm around his back, moving so that you could embrace both him and Danny equally, wrapped within the safety of their arms.

Finally, you felt you could breathe.

"We wanted to tell you," Danny said, voice gentle and sad in your ear. "We really did. We _should_ have told you. I'm so sorry."

You nodded against his shoulder, the side of your face pressed against Ward's chest. You didn't trust your voice to answer, especially when you felt the weight of Ward's chin on top of your hair, his arm pressed protectively against the small of your back.

"We'll… tell you everything. I promise." Ward's voice was rough and coarse like sandpaper, but it was still a relief to hear it. His breath hitched, and his next words were quiet but laden with remorse. "I'm sorry too."

"I love you both so much," you stated, surprising yourself a little from the bold words. But they felt right, always there whether they were spoken or not.

Danny gave a small, breathless laugh, but didn't hesitate to respond with, "We love you too."

"You're all I have," you added, as if you needed to explain what you meant, and what they meant to you. "I can't… I can't lose you both again. I don't think I could live with it. I can't—"

"We're not going anywhere," Ward answered, his voice rumbling through his chest and against your ear. "You're stuck with us, Harper."

The use of your last name, something Ward hadn't done since you were kids, brought out a startled laugh. Which inevitably made Danny snort and start laughing, which caused Ward to sigh. You knew he had rolled his eyes, even if you couldn't see it.

And just like that, the cracks stopped spreading and you were no longer in danger of shattering. You still needed answers, even if you were afraid of what they were. Danny and Ward had a lot of explaining to do, but right now, you surrendered to the relief and safety of knowing that everything would be okay. As long as you had each other, it would be okay.

It wasn't until Danny and Ward finally released you that you realized the change. The rain had stopped and stars were peeking out from behind the clouds. The storm had moved on.

* * *

That night, after the three of you returned to Danny's apartment, they told you everything. About Danny's plane crash and how Harold had been responsible for poisoning the pilots. Danny being raised and trained by warrior-monks (though you realized it was clearly abuse from the way Danny described it, even if he didn't see it that way). How Danny gained his abilities and role as the Iron Fist.

And he also explained how Madame Gao had offered for disband the Hand if Danny let a woman die. You weren't surprised at all that Danny had chosen to save the woman. That's just the kind of person he was, and you couldn't blame him for it. Hell, your life might have been even worse if the collapse of the Hand had driven Josh to desperation. It wasn't hard to imagine he could have abducted you and tried to flee the city if the police were after him. You shuddered at the horrifying possibilities.

Ward's confessions were harder to hear, especially since in the grand scheme of things they were still fairly fresh. His father coming back to life after making a deal with Madame Gao, and they both ruled Rand from the shadows. Ward had to keep it a secret, because Harold warned him if he told anyone, Joy would be the first to suffer.

The idea of Ward being under the control of his father and the Hand for over a decade made you feel sick to your stomach. And it got worse. Ward explained, in halting words, that Harold had drained his bank account of money he had stolen in order to keep him within the city. And Ward, broken and cornered, had stabbed his father multiple times.

At this point in the narrative, Ward's hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't continue. Without a second thought, you sat next to him and clasped his trembling hands within your steady ones. He looked up at you, startled. But then his dark eyes reflected with gratitude, and he was able to continue.

The penthouse floor of the Rand building hadn't been destroyed by a gas explosion, like the news had reported. Apparently, it had been wiped out by Danny smashing his golden fist into the ground. You couldn't hold back your incredulous laughter, especially not with the annoyed look on Ward's face, and the sheepish on one Danny's. Perhaps to a rational person, the knowledge that Danny held so much destructive power within him would have been alarming, but to you, all you could think about was how put-out Ward would be dealing with the clean-up effort.

It was kind of a snapshot into their relationship as a whole. Danny, the reckless, exuberant, action-before-thought kind of guy, with stoic, sarcastic Ward trying to keep Danny from hurting himself.

But then the story turned back to a more blood, violent end. Danny had been scared half to death when he thought Harold had killed Ward, and Ward in turn had been forced to act when his father had almost killed Danny. Pointed a gun right at him, ready to end the last of the Rand family line.

But then Ward had been there, like he always was. He had murdered his own father, twice, but the way Ward told it, he had done it because it needed to be done. Harold would keep killing, keep coming back from the dead, unless Ward stopped him. And he had.

Ward even told you the full story of why Joy had left. You could see in his eyes that he was afraid you would do the same – pack your bags and leave the country, getting as far away from him as possible.

But you didn't, and you knew you never would. You were honest with them both when you said you needed time to process everything. But in the meantime, you had no qualms with staying at Danny's place. After Josh, the Hand, Gao, and even learning that creatures like Harold were possible, you didn't know if you would ever feel safe ever again. It was funny in a way. You had been in Manhattan during the Battle for New York, and you'd hid in the subways as the city was assaulted. After that day, the world had known that aliens and Avengers existed, and things had been irrevocably changed forever.

But even what had happened that day hadn't affected you the way the last few days had. Extraterrestrial invasions hadn't shaken you to your core, not in the way plain, average humans could.

The days that followed weren't easy, but they were a relief. You broke the lease on your apartment without much difficulty. Almost being murdered wasn't a valid reason to break the lease according to the fine print, but the leasing office wasn't about to fight you on it. Especially with Ward staring them down as if he would like nothing better than to have them destroyed in court. You would have found it funny if the poor leasing people hadn't looked so terrified.

It was almost a month before you knew you were going to be okay. It was a small, simple thing. Insignificant on its own, really. Danny had asked, casually but with care, if you wanted to watch a movie with him. You asked if Ward would be joining, because having him also there felt like the most natural thing in the world, and Danny had just smiled at you.

You were broken people in a broken world, but maybe that's what it took to survive. Danny's lightness juxtaposed to Ward's darkness caused a sort of balance that you felt safe within. Perhaps that's why it took you so long to realize what you were to them. You were an integral part of a family the three of you had created. It took almost losing them both for your mind to realize what your heart had known all along.

You were home.


	22. Chapter 22 - Epilogue A, Ward's Woman

_[This is Reader's ending with Ward. For Reader's ending with Danny, go to Chapter 23.]_

You paced restlessly up and down Ward's living room, probably wearing a hole in what was, without a doubt, a very expensive Persian rug. But it couldn't be helped. You hadn't heard anything from Ward since you'd left the office at five, and he'd said he was going to stay a couple more hours. You even tried calling him around eight on the pretense of asking him what kind of take-out he wanted for dinner, but really you had wanted to make sure he was fine and quell the rising paranoia in your thoughts.

But he hadn't answered. He hadn't returned your texts you sent at ten, and then eleven either.

The grand face on the Grandfather clock now read almost midnight, and you were sure something terrible had happened. Madame Gao had made assurances that she had no need to harm Ward or Danny, but that really meant fuck-all, didn't it? You didn't know her, and she didn't owe you a damn thing.

You'd tried calling Danny too, but he had neglected to pick up his phone or answer his messages either. That wasn't entirely out of the ordinary him, he'd spent most of his life without a cellphone after all, but it still felt like everyone had disappeared off the face of the Earth.

You knew logically you should call the Rand security team to check on Ward. Shannon had always treated you kindly, but a new, sinister thought wound its way through your racing mind.

 _What if the Hand had managed to infiltrate the company? What if Ward wasn't answering his phone because he was physically incapable of doing so?_

Rushing into Ward's bedroom, you began throwing open his drawers and started digging around. He had mentioned keeping a gun in his glove compartment. Said he'd started keeping it there because his father would send "tests," some of them more dangerous than others, and he'd made vague insinuations that there was a firearm in his apartment too.

What kind of parent could make their child feel unsafe in their own home, you didn't know, but lucky for Harold he hadn't risen from the dead a third time. Otherwise, you would have had a very strong desire to finish the job permanently.

You located your query (beneath his socks, of all places), and slipped the handgun into your purse. You knew enough to check that the safety was on, but besides that, you were fairly ignorant when it came to firearms. Ward had offered to take you to the shooting range, but you had shied away from the thought. Now, you wish you had.

Deciding to walk since Ward's place was so close to the Rand building (and it had been a surprisingly warm April day), you began to wonder if that was the smartest course of action when every face you passed felt unfriendly and vaguely threatening. You knew objectively you were letting your paranoia get away with you, but then again, you had almost become a murder victim in the supposed safety of your own apartment late last year. After that, no amount of paranoia felt unwarranted.

It had been almost six months since the attack and you still couldn't live alone. Ward had been kind enough to offer you a place to stay, and you had taken him up on the offer, grateful that he understood without pitying you. But it was always there, lingering in the back of your mind – the fear that your presence would paint a target on his back. To think that fear might now be realized was causing your chest to constrict and your breath to become short and uneven.

By the time you made it to the Rand building, your heart was pounding extraordinarily hard and your hands trembled as you swiped your ID across the reader to let yourself into the back entrance. You willed your racing pulse to stop thundering in your ears as you listened for the sound of possible danger as you entered the executive suite elevators. You hadn't seen any security so far, and you were unsure if that was promising or ominous.

The elevator doors opened, and you clutched your purse in preparation to retrieve the handgun in a hurry. You weren't sure what you would find, but the sight of Ward's office door wide open made your heart jump in your throat.

 _Oh, God,_ you thought with rising panic. _What if he's in there? What if Ward's in there but he's… Oh God, oh God._

"Hello?"

At the sound of Ward's slightly confused voice calling out from his office, you nearly dropped your bag as well as your whole person, onto the floor. Instead of collapsing to the floor in a dramatic fashion, you wobbled on your wet-noodle legs as you made it to the doorway of his suite.

There he was, in all of his glory. Unharmed, unabducted, and looking surprised, followed by concerned, at what had to be a strange look on your face.

"Hey. What are you doing here?"

"Oh. Um…"

Suddenly, trying to explain how you were terrified the Hand had murdered him felt childish and silly. But despite feeling somewhat shamed at your overreaction, you still couldn't get the image out of your head – the scene you had been terrified to find. Ward with his throat slashed open, his blood painting the beautifully tiled floors and glass walls like a macabre rendition of art. You could see it so clearly in your mind's eye, and your stomach roiled with the threat of wanting to empty its contents. But Ward was still waiting for an answer, and you had to do your best to save face.

"I… tried to get ahold of you. You didn't answer your phone. I… I left messages…"

As you stumbled over your words, Ward frowned and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. After tapping on it, he gave a whispered _shit_ and tossed it onto the desk.

"Goddamn battery must have died. I'm sorry, I should have paid attention to the time and…"

Ward trailed off as he got the first clear look of your face. He said your name questioningly, but all you could do was shake your head. Your throat had closed around all your unspoken words. Ward was on his feet and across the room, his hands on your shoulders as he looked down into your face.

"Hey, hey. I'm fine. See?"

You couldn't meet his eye. You knew if you did, it would break whatever straining dam was keeping the waterworks at bay. And you were _not_ going to cry in front of him because you had let your panicked thoughts run away with you.

"Oh, God. I'm such an idiot," you said with a small laugh that didn't sound quite right. "I'm sorry. I should have just waited for you at home. I don't kn-know what I was thinking."

Your voice wobbled traitorously, and you knew the jig was up when you felt two strong, solid arms wrap around your shoulders.

 _You asshole,_ you silently berated the taller man, both for scaring you but also for knowing exactly how to soothe your nerves. He had gotten good at that lately – knowing when you needed to be reassured with a touch or an embrace. Even more impressive was the fact that Ward had never been one to easily give physical affection, and now you knew why. All because of that monster father of his.

And yet here he was… holding you to his chest as if your comfort was the only thing that mattered to him. Ward probably expected you to start crying, hell, it's what _you_ were expecting too, but you didn't. The pressure inside of you was still there, but it wasn't something that could be released with a good cry. No, this was a different sort of desperation, and it had plagued you for weeks.

Or was it months. Years?

You pulled away and looked up at him, your eyes burning with unshed tears. Ward gave you one of his slow, crooked smiles. "You know… if you wanted me home faster, you could have just called the office," he said in what was clearly his idea of a flirtatious joke.

His grin faded when you didn't laugh, or smile, or even roll your eyes. He placed his hands on your shoulders, his gaze rather intense as he met your eye.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

As stupid as you felt for panicking and reacting like a lost child, you couldn't stand seeing the worry in his eyes either. It wasn't as if his concern was misplaced – you still bore the faded scar on your neck from your last near-death experience.

"No, nothing happened to _me_. I was worried something had happened to _you_. I thought… I thought she had…"

Ward raised his brows questioningly, and you clarified, "Gao."

"Oh…"

Something made him squeeze you tighter, maybe the sheer pain in your voice, but you attempted to pull back, needing him to understand. It was right there at the tip of your tongue, wanting to burst from your lips, but you didn't know the words that could capture the essence of your existential fear.

"When I couldn't get ahold of you… I know I could have called, but I then thought, what if they had come for you? I didn't want to tip them off. And I couldn't reach Danny either… Ward." You looked up at him again, terror making you dig your fingers into the front of his dress shirt, trying to hold onto something to keep grounded and sane. In return, Ward looked as if he was on the verge of something himself, his eyes wide and glassy but his grip around you was steady.

"I'm so scared," you whispered. "I'm so scared they'll come back, the Hand will come back, and they'll torture and kill you because of Harold. Because you want nothing to do with them. Because of _me_."

Your chest tightened at the confession, and the first of your tears spilled down your cheeks.

"I can't… I _won't_ ever forgive myself if they—"

Ward never let you finish. Before you could react, he stepped forward, raised his hand to cradle the back of your head, and pulled you forward until your lips were captured against his.

Your first reaction was to freeze, every muscle tightening in your body almost as one. Your mind was filled with white noise and you were fairly sure you forgot how to breathe. You had no idea how to respond, so you did nothing, as still as a deer in the headlights.

Ward, quickly sensing something was amiss, pulled a few inches away as he studied your face. His expression was not only questioning, but a little fearful. You suddenly realized what he was silently asking.

 _Did I fuck up?_

Your response came without thought or effort; before you were even cognizant of what you were about to do, you grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him forward, meeting his lips for a second time with all the enthusiasm that was lacking from the first.

Ward immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, hands splayed against your back as he pressed you against his solid torso with enough force to make you gasp against his mouth. He used this to his advantage, the tip of his tongue prodding your lips; another question you answered by opening your mouth to him and pressing the front of your body against his much larger mass.

Kissing Ward was better than you could have ever imagined, and you had imagined it more times than you cared to admit. His lips were warm and eager, but the things he was doing with his tongue made sparks of electricity dance all the way down to your toes.

 _Fucking hell, why didn't we do this sooner,_ you silently admonished yourself. But the question was chased from your mind as Ward caught your tongue between his lips, gently sucking on it and causing you to go weak in the knees.

The heat between you was astounding, more than you would have thought possible, but it was not the reason you began to unbutton his waist coat. You weren't sure what you were doing, to be honest, and you half expected Ward to grab your hands and pull you away, but his movements were just as urgent as he slipped his hands underneath the edge of your shirt, exploring the naked skin of your waist and lower back.

The feel of his hands was enough to cause a moan to escape your lips, and _then_ it was his turn to freeze. He gently pulled his lips from yours, a move you instantly regretted, but you had to admit he looked wildly attractive with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. The stubble on his cheeks and his slightly-mussed hair only added to it.

He studied your features for a moment, taking the opportunity to catch his breath.

"Is this… too fast?"

"If anything, it's not fast enough," you answered. Ward's eyes slightly widened, and you weren't sure if it was more from your words or the tight quality of your voice.

"If you want to stop at any time…"

"I _won't_ ," you reiterated, unable to entirely get rid of the desperate yearning in your words. You understood why he was being so hesitant and careful with you, and you truly appreciated his thoughtfulness, but you didn't want to be treated delicately. Not right now. Right now, you burned for him, wanting his hands all over you in an effort to feed the flame.

Palming the curve of his jawline in your hand, you gently rubbed your thumb against his cheek. He seemed caught off-guard by the soft gesture, just another reminder of how few and far between such affectionate touches had been for him.

You leaned forward and upward, lightly brushing your lips over his as you opened your mouth and breathed two words against his skin.

"Please, Ward."

His mouth crashing against yours was his answer, and his hands returned under your shirt, desperately seeking skin-on-skin contact while you did the same quickly unbuttoning the dress shirt under his waist coat. You paused only long enough to loosen his tie, making a frustrated noise as you hissed, "How many layers are you _wearing?"_

Ward released a breathless laugh, shrugging out of his vest and dress shirt while giving you a smirk that went straight to the heat between your legs. Not to be outdone, you pulled your own shirt up and over your head, leaving you in nothing but jeans and a bra.

The smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a look so intense you nearly forgot to breathe. His eyes were dark, hungry, as if he would consume you. You had no idea he could even look that way at someone, let alone that someone be you.

Ward pulled you to him, rejoining your mouths in heat and sparks, but he seemed again hesitant with touching you, his fingers only lightly tracing your skin. Needing more contact, you grabbed his hands and placed them directly on your breasts. You waited for him to pull away, but instead, Ward pushed against them, almost massaging your breasts with the entirety of his large hands. Your breath hitched as you tried to keep some control over yourself, but it was growing more difficult by the minute.

At some point, Ward had thrown off his jacket, and your purse was somewhere near the doorway, dropped and forgotten. Now he was only in his undershirt and trousers, and still it wasn't enough for you. You broke the kiss, rapidly unbuttoned your jeans, and with a prayer that the office windows were tinted, you yanked them down and stepped out of them.

You had expected Ward to be stunned or shocked by this, but he barely gave you time to catch your breath before his lips were on yours again, his hands roaming down your sides to squeeze your hips. You weren't going to let him get away with wearing all that clothing though; your hands slipped underneath his undershirt, fingertips gliding across the shaped contours of his abs and pectorals. You had always wondered if he was as muscular as he looked when he wore just plain t-shirts and jeans, and your lips curled into a smile when you discovered the reality was even better than your imagination.

"Having fun, are we?" he mumbled against your mouth, sending shivers down your spine at feeling the words as well as hearing them. As payback, you lightly nibbled his bottom lip and caused his breathing to hitch. Not giving him a chance to recover, you pulled up his shirt enough so that the heat of your skin was flush against his.

The contact was enough to make your skin flush and your heart racing, but that wasn't the only thing you were pressed up against. The hard stiffness of his erection was pressed against your hip, and you weren't shy about pushing more firmly against it as you lowered your mouth to drag your lips along his neck.

 _"Fuck,"_ he said in a strangled whisper, and he practically hissed through his teeth when you kissed and sucked along the skin that was just above the collar of his shirt. You smiled against him, knowing even now he was trying to control his reactions and his movements. Ward Meachum was nothing if not a tightly-wound human version of a coiled spring, and you were going to do everything in your power to release that tension.

Fortunately, you seemed to have found the weak spot in his defenses. As you continued to suck and kiss at his neck, his breath grew harsher and his hands were now cupping your ass. Every time he tried to control his breathing, you sucked harder, your moans more audible.

When his hands squeezed your ass, Ward inadvertently caused your hips to push harder against his erection, and that seemed to be his final breaking point. He reached down, grasped the back of your thighs, and lifted you up. His movements were so fluid and graceful that you didn't realize your legs were wrapped around his waist until he had carried you over to the couch. He lowered you onto the cushions, following you down as his weight pressed on top of you, warm and heavy and pleasant.

Your legs were no longer hooked around his waist, but your thighs squeezed his sides as Ward lowered his head down to your neck. Apparently seeking revenge for your earlier ministrations, he lightly nipped along your jawline, heading for the hollow of your throat. He began kissing along the scar across your neck, and by the time he had traveled from one side to the other, you were arching your back and making needful noises you had never made before in your life. Your core was throbbing with need, and even through the layers of his pants you could feel how hard he was.

Ward paused only long enough to slightly lift himself up, reach down, and yank off his shirt. Like moths to a flame, your hands were immediately on his skin, tracing the firm lines of his back as you groaned from him latching himself back upon your neck. Now you understand why he had lost control earlier – his lips on your neck, coupled by the slow, languid movement of his hips against yours was enough to drive anyone to madness.

"Fucking hell, Ward…"

He pulled away from your neck with a soft _pop_ , bracing himself so he could look down at your face. He appeared uncertain for a moment, but when he realized you had spoken his name in frustrated desire, the slow smile spreading across his face was absolutely wicked. It only served to make the tingling between your legs more heightened.

"You have… _no_ clue what you do to me, do you?" you asked breathily. Ward gave you a flash of his shark's grin before lowering himself again, this time downwards. Slightly alarmed, you looked down to see he had stopped at your breasts – specifically at your ridiculously peaked nipples.

"I think I can take a guess," he said, and without warning, he lowered his mouth to your left breast and tongued at your erect nipple. Even through the cloth of your bra, it sent shards of heat through your core, making you arch your back and hiss through your teeth.

"Oh, fuck _me!"_

"That is the idea," he practically purred, sending another jolt through you at the vibrations it caused around your nipple.

 _This is ridiculous,_ you thought as you squirmed beneath him, getting to the point where you were having trouble with cohesive thought. _I'm going to come before he even really touches me._

"Ward, please…" you almost pleaded, unable to remove the rest of your clothing or his, trapped as you were beneath him. You weren't above resorting to begging at this point; you wanted him so acutely that it was almost painful. And maybe he heard that in your voice, because he granted you mercy and unlatched himself from your breast, moving himself upward again so he could look down into your face. His eyes were still dark with want, but he was still hesitant, still holding back. Still afraid he would do something to hurt you.

You wanted to tell him, _I need you, Ward_. You knew the words had been spoken to him before, by others as a means of manipulation. But you wanted to say them because you truly meant them, and not just because you wanted him to bed you. You needed him in every way a person could be needed, and probably had for some time.

But as you looked up into the face of the man you loved so much you were willing to die, or kill, for him, you realized those weren't the words Ward should to hear. Maybe it was time he heard something that no one had probably said to him in his entire life.

Cradling your hands gently on the back of his neck so you could pull him down against your chest, you pressed your lips against his ear and said:

"I want you, Ward."

You heard him take a sharp, quick breath, and you wondered if you had miscalculated when he slowly pulled back to stare down at you. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes, as they often did, showed their bright, naked vulnerability. You were about to ask if he was all right, but the need was quickly made moot. Ward joined his lips to yours with renewed fervor, and he did not waste any more time teasing and tormenting you.

He broke off the kiss briefly, reaching down between your bodies, and you could hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. You quickly slipped off your bra and planned to yank off your panties next, but Ward stilled your hands with his. You saw he had already slipped off his pants and dark boxer-briefs.

Ward then moved his hands over yours, hooking his fingers around your soaked underwear, and pulled them down your legs. When he settled back in the cradle of your hips, your legs firmly around him as his member pressed across your pelvis, you couldn't suppress the plaintive moan that slipped past your lips. Ward responded by touching his lips to yours with surprising gentleness. He pulled back, but only far enough to lean his forehead against yours.

"Tell me if I hurt you," he said softly, his warm breath tickling your lips.

"Okay," you responded, barely above a whisper. You weren't sure why he thought he would hurt you. You'd had sex plenty of times before, and you didn't expect he would be rough with you.

But as he began to press himself into you, you understood the words of caution.

"Do you need me to stop?" he asked, pausing immediately at seeing the wince pass across your features.

"No! _God,_ no. Don't stop."

Ward gave a breathy laugh at your reaction, but he still went more slowly this time. You tried not to flinch, but _Jesus Christ_ there was a lot of him to take in. You'd never had to use the term "massive" to describe any of your past partners, but the word certainly applied to Ward.

 _"Keep… keep going,"_ you gasped out, afraid Ward would stop at seeing your expression. You weren't feeling _pain_ , exactly, just a lot of pressure and fullness that you had never experienced before. To distract yourself, you focused on his face. His eyes were shut, his brows furrowed together as if in concentration, and you realized how very hard he was focusing his control so that he wouldn't cause you more discomfort than you he to.

The knowledge that he took such care with you, especially in this moment when so many men wouldn't, went straight to your core. And your core was currently embedded, nearly up to the hilt.

 _"Oh… God…"_

Ward's eyes flashed opened at your agonized moan.

"Did I hurt you?"

"N…no," you managed to say. "Quite the, the opposite, actually."

Ward took in your flushed appearance and your small, sheepish smile, and he took a breath as his shoulder muscles slightly relaxed in relief. Then he leaned down and touched his lips to yours. The heat of his body, combined with the scent of his skin and the feel of his mouth, sent another throb through you.

In fact, Ward continuing to kiss you was making you tighten around him, and he hadn't even started moving yet. It necessitated him breaking off the kiss, and he cradled his face into your neck as he released a stifled moan.

"I'm sorry," you said with a laugh in your voice, effectively undermining your apologize. "I just… really… really enjoy kissing you."

"I can tell," Ward responded wryly from the region of your neck, his breath warm over your skin. "But if you continue to _enjoy_ yourself, this is going to be cut a lot shorter than I intended."

"Yeah?" you asked with a half-smile, trying to focus and not sound like you were completely filled to the brim with Ward Meachum's goddamn ridiculously-sized cock. "And how long were you… _intending_ … on something like this happening?"

You could feel the smirk against your skin as Ward lightly kissed along your neck, and your breath hitched as he slowly began to move his hips. The friction against your walls, combined with his mouth, and now one of his hands reaching up to rub across your nipple was enough to drive you to distraction.

"I had _hoped_ … for something like this for a long… long time," Ward said, his own breath uneven as he schooled his thrusts into a regular pace. "…but I never dared… to dream it could ever happen."

You wanted to respond with some witty banter about how that made two of you, but you were beyond speech or thought at that point. Your moans came more frequently now, low and needy, and Ward obliged by picking up the pace. It was all you could do to hang on to him, the back of your head pressed against the couch cushion, your nails digging into his back as you slightly tilted your hips upward. The friction was slightly different now as you felt him reach a place he hadn't before, and you shuddered as your walls tightened.

 _"W… Ward… please…"_ you begged, desperate for release. Ward let go of your breast and moved his hand between your sweat-sheened bodies. Never slowing his pace, he slid his fingers across your mound and pressed down when he found what he was looking for.

You gave a wordless cry, sparks and jolts of electricity shooting down your legs as Ward rubbed circles into the sensitive nub. Your walls suddenly clenched like a vice around him, and you cried out again as you fell over the edge into blinding ecstasy.

When you finally returned to your senses, you could feel Ward's movements had mostly stopped, mainly because he physically couldn't budge with you so tight around him. He gave a sharp intake of breath and buried his face into your neck, groaning hotly against your skin as you felt a throbbing deep in your core.

You held onto him for a silent moment, the quiet office punctuated by harder-than-usual breathing. Ward seemed to be having just as difficult a time catching his breath as you were. When he half-lifted himself off of you, you couldn't suppress the disappointed groan as he slipped out from between your thighs, suddenly cold and feeling oddly empty.

But Ward laid down beside you, wedging himself between your body and the back of the couch, and you rolled onto your side to give him more room. That, and his muscled torso could press into your back as he wrapped his solid arms around your waist. A good strategy, overall.

When Ward remained quiet, you turned your head to look back at him, and despite being wrapped in postcoital bliss, you noticed the creases across his forehead.

"What is it?" you asked, your tongue feeling thick and clumsy in your mouth.

"Was that… okay?" he responded while searching your eyes. While you were tempted to roll your eyes and tell him he was being stupid, you didn't, because you understand why he was asking. Despite all of his outward confidence, arrogance, and sometimes egotism he displayed on a daily basis to his colleagues and the Board of Directors, he still felt deeply inadequate. Ward Meachum thought no matter what he did, he would never be enough. And he had his fucked up family to thank for that.

So you leaned back, put a hand on the side of his face, stroked his cheek, and replied, "If your definition of 'okay' is 'mind-blowing, best-I've-ever-had-in-my-life, holy-shit-I-can-barely-move sex', then sure. It was okay."

Ward snorted aloud, giving you an eye roll for good measure. But then he leaned down and pressed his lips gently against yours, which might have been a mistake, because it made your hips slightly squirm against his pelvis.

 _"Woman,"_ he sighed in consternation.

"I'm not apologizing," you said with a cheeky grin.

"I wouldn't expect you to."

You rolled your eyes at his smirk and settled back onto your side, breathing deeply as Ward's body warmth kept the cold air of his office at bay. You closed your eyes, blissful and happy, which was a far cry from where you had been earlier that night. In fact, you started to doze off until Ward spoke again, his low voice right next to your ear.

"Why did it take us so long to finally do this?"

"Mmm," you responded sleepily. "I suppose it's because we're both stubborn idiots who lack fundamental communication skills."

Ward chuckled at that, and after a moment you opened your eyes wide as a new thought crossed your mind.

"How… how do you think Danny is going to respond when we tell him?" You paused. "We are telling him, right? I mean… is this a thing? Are _we_ a thing?"

"Do you want to be?" he asked, an innocent enough question except for the fact that you could feel the rumble of his deep voice through your back, making you shiver.

You knew the answer to that question, it was easy enough. The real question was: why had you gone so long denying your feelings for this highly intelligent, extremely funny, very complicated, wonderfully sweet man?

"I… would like to be, yes," you answered bashfully, heat blooming in your cheeks despite the fact that you were snuggling with Ward in the nude.

"Then that settles it," he said smoothly. "We're a _thing_."

You snorted despite yourself, but were quickly distracted again as Ward planted a soft kiss under your earlobe. You knew it was his way of telling you he was serious about taking that next step with you, and you blushed again.

"And as for how Danny will react… Well, he'll probably smugly state 'I told you so' followed by a good half hour of berating me for 'taking so long to get my head out of my ass and see what was in front of me.' He's not entirely wrong, but still, a self-satisfied Danny is something I wouldn't wish on my greatest enemies."

"Wait, what do you mean he would say he told you so," you asked with narrowed eyes.

Ward hesitated for a moment, then said, "He… may have hinted on several occasions that you were… interested in pursuing something more than friendship. I told him he was being _ridiculous_ , and until tonight, I thought he was out of his mind."

You smiled and closed your eyes, tracing the back of his hand with your fingers as you said, "I owe him a dinner or two."

"I'm never going to hear the end of it, am I?"

"Nope."

You lingered for a few more minutes, unwilling to move or speak, enjoying being enveloped in his arms and slightly tangled in his legs. But after a while, he cleared his throat and said, "We should probably get dressed or we're going to give Ms. Rosado the shock of a lifetime."

"Ms. Rosado?"

"The woman who cleans my office."

"Oh! Right. No, we wouldn't want that," you said with a small laugh, getting up from the couch and quickly gathering your clothes. But as you got dressed, a small smile crossed your lips. It wasn't surprising, really, that Ward would know the name of the person who cleaned his office. He knew the names of everyone he worked with, and of course, he wouldn't exclude the janitorial crew from being worthy of his time or attention.

Ward was nothing like his father, after all.

The drive back to Ward's apartment wasn't nearly as awkward as you were afraid it was going to be. The few people on the street no longer looked like unfriendly strangers, and the city was filled with glowing, comforting lights. You still felt warm and pleasant from the sex, and you could feel the ghosts of Ward's touches and kisses across your skin. If you'd had any energy left, you know you would have tried to go for round two as soon as you crossed the threshold.

As it was, Ward still insisted you crawl into his bed instead of sleeping in the guest bedroom you had been occupying for several months. Not needing to be asked twice, you washed up in the bathroom and joined him under the covers after retrieving a clean shirt and underwear. Pressing warmly against his chest as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, you sighed contently and planned to not move for the rest of eternity, if possible.

"I… er… had a question."

"Mmm?" you voiced from where your cheek was pressed against his shirt.

"You thought… the Hand might have done something to me. But you came to the office by yourself anyway. What were you planning on doing, exactly, if you had shown up and they _had_ been there?"

You chewed your lip.

"I, um… may have brought a gun."

"…I'm sorry?"

The polite surprise in his voice was so ridiculously funny to you, that you started laughing. It _was_ funny when you stopped to think about it. You hadn't really thought about it, but at the time, you were willing to throw down with Gao herself if she had tried to touch a hair on Ward's head.

"Your gun, specifically. Sorry about that. It's in my purse but I'll put it back tomorrow."

"Oh, my God, you might be just as bad as Danny," Ward muttered into your hair, squeezing you in a brief embrace just to show he wasn't actually mad you stole his gun. "I feel sorry for the next asshole who tries something with you. I have to admit, it's... kind of intimidating. And maybe slightly arousing."

"Yeah?" you asked with a smirk in your voice. "Maybe I'll take you up on your offer and let you train me at the shooting range."

"I take it back, you're _far_ worse than Danny."

"Is that a yes?"

"Goddamn right it is."

Ward rested his chin on top of your head, and you couldn't help but smile in the darkness, for once no longer afraid to shut your eyes for fear of what your dreams would hold. Laying half in his arms, head against his chest as you listened to his slow, steady breathing, you slowly drifted to sleep, knowing you would never be lost again.

Because Ward would always find you and bring you back home.


	23. Chapter 23 - Epilogue B, Danny's Girl

_[This is Reader's ending with Danny. For Reader's ending with Ward, go to Chapter 22.]_

You hit your chiming phone on the nightstand with a groan, raising your head from the drool-spotted pillow. As tempting as it was to go back to sleep, especially considering it was a Saturday, you got up and dressed in you sweat pants, sports bra, and tank top. Knowing the chance of you grabbing food for breakfast was slim, you tied your hair out of the way while praying you had enough energy for what came next.

Grasping the bedroom door knob in your hand, you turned it with excruciating slowness until you felt it give. You pulled open the door with similar care, peeking out into the darkened hallway with a cautious eye. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, so it took you a minute to gauge whether the shadows were just that.

After you determined the hallway was clear, you crept forward at a hunch, your socked feet soundlessly moving across the tiled floor, silent as a cat. You got all the way to the living room without encountering anyone, and you chanced a glance toward your query. A juice, red apple, perched on top of the island counter.

Glancing around the empty living room one more time, you took off at a sprint, heading full-tilt for the fruit. You reached for it and cried out in alarm as you were grabbed roughly around the waist.

You immediately countered by throwing your elbow into the attacker's ribcage, but they anticipated and dodged out of the way, with the added bonus of having to drop you to do so. You threw your leg back, hoping to hook your ankle around a calf or a knee, but your attack was once again thwarted. And when you threw a punch, they simply grabbed your arm and flipped you over their back as easily as if you were a bag of marshmallows.

You hit the ground with an "umph!" and then proceeded to catch your breath as you looked up at the semi-dark figure standing over you.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine. Except if that was a real attack, I would be dead."

"Nah," Danny said with a growing smile. "Maimed, possibly. But you're not dead yet."

You made a show of wincing again, and Danny's face morphed into one of concern. Internally, you smirked like the self-satisfied cat you had earlier pretended to be. The living room floor was currently covered in mats, solely for the preparation of your weekend training of can-you-get-breakfast-before-you're-pretend-murdered. So far, you had gone many Saturday and Sundays without breakfast, though Danny usually relented and let you have a mid-morning snack.

It was this tendency for Danny to be lenient with you that you sought to exploit. As he reached down to check if you had any bruised or broken ribs, you sprang into action. Grabbing him by the shoulders, you raised your leg and kicked into his stomach. Danny, not expecting the treacherous attack, wasn't prepared for your foot connecting into his gut, nor for you to flip him over your head.

Springing to your feet, you hurdled toward the kitchen… and came to a sudden halt. Panting slightly, you blinked to confirm what you were seeing, or rather not seeing.

The apple was gone.

Hearing a crunching noise behind you, you whirled around to see Danny, flat on his back with his head lying on his arm, chewing on a piece of the apple that was supposed to be your hard-won prize.

"Absolutely _not!"_ you shouted in outrage. "That's my apple!"

"Come and get it, then," Danny responded with a devious grin.

Without needing further encouragement, you stalked toward him and sent a swift kick toward his side. Danny grabbed your ankle in mid-air, twisted it, and sent you landing onto your stomach. All while still chewing.

You growled in hot frustration as you looked over your shoulder and sent another kick his way, but Danny simply rolled out of reach of your legs. Not bothering to stand up fully, you pulled yourself up to your haunches and launched yourself at him. Danny dropped the apple, caught your shoulders, and you could see in the tautness of his muscles that he was going to fling you off again. But you'd fallen for that before, and this time you were ready.

As he started to pivot on the floor in preparation of throwing you off, you tangled your legs in his, hooking your heels around his calves and forcing you both into a chaotic, messy roll as your momentum carried you both across the mats. Somehow you ended up on top, and you shoved your hands against his shoulders to force him down onto the floor as you straddled his stomach.

Danny stared up at you, his soft blue eyes wide with surprise, and then he gave a surprised laugh.

"Nice job, Harper. You've improved a lot, even since last weekend," he said in an attempt to praise you. But you weren't falling for it. The battle wasn't over until either you had the apple or Danny had finished eating it.

"In that case, try to keep up with me, _Rand,"_ you said, leaning down slightly as you grinned at him. And after six months of arduous, annoying, agonizing weekends spent training, you were closer to that damned apple than you had ever been before. You weren't going to be distracted by Danny's puppy-dog eyes this time.

But what _was_ distracting was feeling Danny's solid and numerous abs under your thighs. Silently berating yourself, you made a quick scan of your surroundings, using the growing morning light to your advantage. You spotted your goal underneath the dining room table, complete with a Danny-sized bite taken out of one side.

Rolling quickly off his stomach, you scrambled for the dining room, your socks slipping across the polished wood floor. Danny gripped your ankle in an iron grip and yanked you backwards, causing you to fall flat on your abdomen on said polished wood floor. The air was knocked out of you so fast you saw stars before your eyes, and you automatically curled into a fetal position on your side, gasping for air that wouldn't come.

You heard Danny voice your name with quiet urgency, but you only shook your head, unable to verbally respond.

" _Shit._ Hey, hey, you're okay," he said soothingly as he started to rub your back in large circles. "Just try to relax, it'll make breathing easier."

You remained silent but squeezed your eyes shut, willing the throbbing pain in your stomach to go away. You hadn't had the wind knocked out of you since you were a kid, and you forgot how much it fucking hurt.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N). I should have remembered this area isn't covered."

Tears began to leak out of the corner of your eyes, ones of frustration rather than pain. Danny must have noticed them, because the rubbing along your back came to an abrupt stop.

"D-do you want me to take you to the hospital? How badly does it hurt?"

You shook your head to show it wasn't having the wind knocked out of you that had brought this on.

"Okay, um, let's get you up onto the couch. Can you move?"

At Danny's worried question and tone of voice, you opened your eyes and tried to uncurl from your defensive position. Your stomach still hurt, but not so badly that you didn't think you could walk.

Danny helped you to your feet and guided you to the sofa, and then he disappeared into the kitchen where you could hear him searching in the cupboard and turning on the facet. You stared pointedly at your curled hands in your lap, beating yourself up for allowing your frustrations get the better of you.

By the time Danny returned with a glass of water in hand, your eyes had dried and your cheeks were heated with embarrassment. He handed you the glass and you took it, thanking him in a quiet voice before downing almost half the glass. You felt the sofa cushions sink beside you with Danny's weight, but he remained silent, waiting for you to speak first.

When you did, the first thing you said was, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Danny asked, confused. You looked over to him, finding the mildly befuddled look on his face you were expecting. His concern was sweet, but you still couldn't look him in the eye as you spoke.

"We've been at this for months and I'm still awful. I haven't been able to get any of the stupid apples once. You don't even break a sweat when we do this. I mean, how am I supposed to defend myself if I'm not even a challenge to you after half a year?"

The tears began to cloud your vision again, and you wiped them away with rough movements. Perhaps to keep you from rubbing your face raw, Danny grabbed your hand in both of his and spoke gently.

"(Y/N)… look at me."

When you finally did, he squeezed your hand and gave you a small, encouraging smile.

"It took me _fifteen years_ to get to where I am now. You're progressing incredibly fast. Just because I can hold you at bay doesn't mean you're not getting better. Like I said, you've improved a lot."

The urge to look away from him was incredibly strong, especially as your cheeks began to heat with something other than embarrassment now, but you still managed to hold his gaze as you asked, "Do you think I could kick Ward's ass?"

"Oh, without a doubt," Danny said with an amused smile. "You're kind of intimidating sometimes, you know that?"

You rolled your eyes at him.

"Sure. As frightening as a baby duckling."

"I'm serious," he responded with a laugh, one that reminded you of how it felt to sit on his stomach and feel that laugh travel up your pelvic region. Now _that_ had been an effective distraction. If Danny only knew how hard it was for you to concentrate when his half-naked body was pinning you to the floor, he could easily come up with a strategy to make you lose every time.

Well… lose your sparring sessions, anyway. In general, you were pretty sure you were the winning party. Not many people got to enjoy the perks of rolling with a sweat-slicked, panting, tautly-muscled Danny Rand.

In fact, after most of your sparring matches over the last two months, you would have to take care of a _different_ kind of frustration he left you with.

Danny spoke your name again, breaking you out of your highly inappropriate daydreams. "Mmm?" you answered unintelligently.

"Are you still up for the next part, or…"

"Oh! No, I'm fine. Yeah, let's do it."

You stood from the couch, ignoring the painful twinge in your stomach as you began to move the mats out of the way. Danny did the same, and once in a while you caught him glancing in your direction. _Probably checking I'm not having a nervous breakdown,_ you internally grumbled.

Once that was done, you stood in the center of the square rug that was situated in front of the main window. Danny pulled the curtains back, and you nearly gasped at the sight of sunlight Manhattan before you. And you really _did_ stare at the sight of that morning sunlight causing Danny's short curls to glow, his skin taking on a similar golden hue.

Danny caught you openly staring, and he raised an eyebrow and gave a somewhat questioning smile.

"What?"

"Nothing," you immediately squeaked, clearing your throat. "Just… kind of out of it. I _did_ wake up at the crack of dawn to see if I could beat you to the kitchen." You hoped he bought the fib. You hated lying to Danny, but in this instance, you felt it was justified. Poor Danny didn't need the truth: that you were just thinking of running your hands over his smooth, wiry muscles.

Weekend mornings consisted of trying (and failing) to obtain breakfast, followed by centering your "chi." You had no idea if chi was a real thing, but considering your teacher could make his fist glow and punch through walls, you figured you could suspend your disbelief when it came to these matters.

You closed your eyes assumed the starting stance, feet spaced as wide as your shoulders as you raised your arms and brought them slowly down – one hand parallel to the ground across your chest, while the other was held vertically just below your chin. You knew Danny was watching when he slightly nudged your foot into a better position, and you tried not to smile. He may be a goofball most of the time, but when it came to this, he was a highly focused perfectionist.

Next you lowered your center, bending at the knees as you fluidly moved your hands so both palms were facing toward your left.

"You're holding a lot of tension in your shoulders," Danny's voice spoke from your right, and you could tell he was slowly circling you as he was studying your form. Most mornings he went through the motions along with you, so you wondered why the change from your typical routine.

The knowledge that his eyes were solely focused on you made your stomach flutter strangely.

"Am I?" you responded ambivalently. "Maybe I just need a good shoulder rub."

Danny didn't respond to your cheeky statement, so you carefully moved your right arm toward the right, followed by your other arm, until you were slightly twisted in the other direction. You raised your hands again above your head, trying to mimic Danny's graceful, effortless movements, but in reality you felt like a giraffe attempting yoga.

You lowered your hands to either side of your face, and thrust out to the sides, straightening your legs at the same time so you were standing upright. You winced at the pain that flared up in the muscle between your shoulder and neck. It seemed that Danny wasn't entirely wrong about your tensed shoulders.

You nearly flinched again when you felt finger-light touches on your upper arms.

"Something is making you anxious," he spoke softly, gently prodding his fingertips into the muscles of your neck and shoulders. You lowered your arms, doing all you could to focus on your breathing and not at the way your heart was beating harder from his touches.

"You can tell that from my shoulders?" you joked in a bad attempt to lighten the mood.

"There are a lot of things you can tell from someone's body language."

Danny's tone made you open your eyes, blinking as you saw he was staring right back. _Oh, God,_ you thought with rising panic. _Does he know? Can he tell?_

"Well, they say roughly half of communication is body language," you responded with a nervous smile. Danny peered at you more closely, and you could practically feel the sweat breaking out across your forehead.

"Are you sure there's nothing bothering you?" he asked, frowning slightly.

 _Oh no,_ you thought. _Just the fact I've wanted to sleep with one of my best friends for the past six months. You see, he doesn't know the meaning of the word "chill" so he's at a constant high-key state of a deadly combination of adorable and sexy. The boy knows how to control his body like a finely tuned instrument, one I'm in close contact with every day. Not to mention he keeps asking me if the guest room is okay, and if not, I can sleep in his bed instead. What else. Oh! Let's not forget the weekly sparring sessions that leave me throbbing in more ways than one._

"Nope!" you answered with wide eyes. "Everything is hunky-dory."

Danny blinked.

"Okay... If that's the case, then maybe there's a physical reason you're tensing up so much," he responded while circling behind you again.

"Wait. What do you mean? What are you doing?" you asked in growing alarm as he raised your arms so they were parallel to the floor.

"Stay just like this," he murmured, and you nearly jumped as he put his hands on your shoulders again. You tried to remain perfectly still as his warm, calloused fingers worked their way down your arms and back up to your shoulders. You shivered when he pressed his thumbs against the muscles connecting your neck to your back. He kept feeling along your back, lower and lower, and it took every ounce of willpower for your poor touch-starved self to not make a noise.

Sure, there was plenty of physical contact while training, but that wasn't the kind of touching you longed for.

You were about to speak Danny's name and tell him he should probably stop, when he raised his hands and began to massage the space between your shoulders and neck. As his fingers worked their way into your knotted muscles, you were practically bursting at the seams trying to remain silent.

"This seems to be where most of the tension is. There's a hard knot right here along your left shoulder muscle. Did you have any neck or back injuries?"

"Besides having my throat sliced open? Not that I can think of."

Danny froze. _Fuck,_ you moaned internally. It had just slipped out; you hadn't meant to say it. _Why am I always such a huge idiot?_

His hands dropped away and began to apologize earnestly, but you turned around and grabbed his hands before they could completely escape you.

"Don't, Danny. I was being thoughtless. Please don't apologize."

He was already shaking his head.

"I was the one being thoughtless."

You gave an exasperated laugh and said, "Danny. You're the reason I'm still alive, so please, don't apologize for me being an asshole when you're just trying to help."

He gave you a look that was halfway between puppy-dog Danny and Concerned Best Friend Danny.

 _Oh, for fuck's sake,_ you sighed. You knew he was going to be beating himself up the rest of the day, but you also knew of one way you could prevent him from doing that. A distraction. You slightly lifted up onto the balls of your feet and pressed a light kiss to his mouth.

Judging by the size of his wide, blue eyes, you had wiped all thoughts of guilt from his mind. _Mission accomplished._

You turned back around as if what you had just done was perfectly normal, and said, "So, you were saying? Some kind of knot in my neck?"

"Uh…" Danny vocalized. "…y-yes."

"Can you show me?" you asked as innocently as you could. You could practically hear him hard-swallow, and you had to admit, the revenge was sweet after what he had put you through that morning.

You closed your eyes as his fingers returned to your mostly bare shoulders, breathing in deeply from the skin-on-skin contact. Goosebumps broke out on your skin as he began to work at the hard muscle with his thumbs, and you mentally groaned as he moved to the other side.

Danny froze again.

 _Shit,_ you thought when you realized you had groaned aloud and not just in your head.

"Does it… hurt?" he asked tentatively. The question made you want to start giggling. Pained groans probably did sound a lot like groans of pleasure, but surely he would know the difference between the two…

A switch was abruptly flicked in your head. You did the quick mental math. Danny had disappeared when he was ten. He had shown up over a year ago after having lived in a monastery for fifteen years. A _monastery._ That meant that there was every possibility that Danny Rand had never had sex before. That he was most likely… a virgin.

Now it was your turn to completely freeze. You only found the ability to speak when Danny softly said your name.

"No. No, it doesn't hurt. It feels… nice, actually."

"Do you want me to keep going?"

You closed your eyes again and inhaled through your nose. Oh yeah, this boy definitely had little to no experience in the sexual arena if he didn't understand all the double entendres going on.

"If you would like," you said cautiously. As he started kneading his fingers into your muscles again, you were sure they were even tenser than before. But as he continued with his ministrations, you slowly began to relax, bit by bit. It gave you the opportunity to really think about what you were doing.

Your attraction to Danny was clearly becoming an issue, but you could deal with it for the time being. It would get better when you eventually moved out. You didn't know _when_ that would be, exactly, as the thought of moving out sent you into an anxious spiral with a side of hyperventilation, but you assumed eventually Danny would grow tired of you and kick you out…

You didn't realize you were slightly leaning back against Danny until you felt his warm breath tickle the hair on your scalp. A tiny voice in your head screamed a warning for you to move away. Continue on with your morning stretches, go and have breakfast, and spend the rest of the day as if it was totally normal and you weren't pining for your roommate.

But you didn't move away. Instead, you leaned your head back against Danny's shoulder and kept your eyes closed. Danny's hands felt too good, and his breath on your neck was giving you goosebumps all over your arms and legs.

Danny stopped massaging your shoulders and spoke your name with a degree of uncertainty. _Damnit,_ you thought. _I need to stop, right now. I need to walk away. I need to stop playing pretend and realize Danny will never feel the same way I do._

Instead, you whispered, "Please… keep touching me."

Danny released your shoulders, and you felt the sting of disappointment in your chest. But really, what were you expecting, stooping so low—

Your thoughts were smashed to a halt as Danny wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pressed your back to his chest. You barely had time to react before you felt the warm press of his lips against the side of your exposed throat.

A thrill of electricity shot up your body as your friend moved his lips across your skin, lightly tracing the tendons of your neck as he went up to your earlobe, nibbling at the end of it.

 _Holy hell, I take it back,_ you thought as your breath caught in your throat. _Danny Rand may be a virgin but he knows what he's doing._

Danny trailed his lips back down the side of your neck, leaving light kisses as he went. You squirmed slightly in his grip, but he kept you firmly in place as you felt his lips smile against the crook of your neck.

He did, however, dislodge his lips when you grabbed the bottom of your tank top and pulled it over your head, leaving just the sweat pants and sports bra. Danny immediately took advantage of the additional exposed skin, and he ran his hands along your sides and stomach as he began kissing down your shoulder.

 _"Danny…"_ you gasped, almost pleading. You didn't know quite what you were asking for, but you needed _more_. Now that Danny had opened Pandora's box, you knew fighting your feelings was a lost cause. Your pining and longing had turned into a deep, overwhelming ache.

Danny turned you around to face him, and as soon as he did, you both met in the middle with equal enthusiasm. He meshed his mouth to your as you grasped around the back of his neck, pulling him in as tightly as you could while he did the same with his arms wrapped around your ribcage. You pressed your bare stomach to his, heat rising as you yearned for every inch of his skin against yours.

Before you knew it, the both of you were lying across his square rug, Danny underneath you as you half-laid on top of him, hands exploring each other's bodies as your tongues did the same with your mouths. But you soon pulled away so you could reach down and shrug off your sweatpants, leaving you only in your sports bra and underwear.

A look of uncertainty flashed across Danny's eyes, and you paused for a moment to catch your breath, your fingers tracing the hard lines of his chest.

"You okay?" you asked softly, understanding that you might be going too fast for his experience level.

"Yeah," he responded with an almost-shy smile. "Definitely okay."

Taking his smile as a sign of encouragement, you lowered yourself to his chest and began planting light kisses along his sternum. "Let me know if that changes," you said, smiling against his skin as you heard his breath hitching.

"I… I will," he said, breathing more unevenly than he had during any of your training sessions. That fact made you feel very pleased with yourself. You kissed your way down his defined abs, but instead of reaching for his sweat pants, you rose up and sat down on his stomach, much in the same way you had done earlier while sparring.

Danny stared up at you, his expression almost wondrous. He seemed hesitant to make the next move, so you grabbed his hands and attached them to your sides. Trusting he would figure out what to do with them, you lowered yourself until your face was buried in his neck, and you began to do what he had started earlier: kissing and lightly sucking up and down the side of his neck. A low groan erupted from his throat, and he dropped his hands to squeeze your hips.

The longer you kissed, sucked, and licked at his neck, the more he squirmed and panted. When it became too much, he grasped your hips, lifted you up slightly, and pushed you back so you were straddling his hips, right on top of his extremely hard erection.

Now it was _your_ turn to groan. But you gave as good as you got, knowing the hickeys it would leave behind as you sucked along his neck. Danny gripped your hips tighter, practically grinding you onto his stiff member as he held you in place. You moaned Danny's name against his skin, shivering in response to the friction against your sensitive nub.

"I… I want…"

"Hmm?" you hummed, raising your head. His cheeks were flushed and his pupils were dilated with arousal, causing a jolt to go straight to your core.

"I want... _this_ , with you," he explained nervously. "But I've never been with someone before. I might… mess it up."

"You won't," you responded with a small smile, reaching up to brush a couple of blond curls from his forehead. "Just… follow my lead."

Danny hard-swallowed and nodded, looking more nervous than you'd ever seen before. The guy had probably faced down a horde of Hand members, and yet being intimate with you was making his palms sweat. It was pretty much the most endearing thing you'd ever seen in your life.

But you knew how to take his mind off his nerves. You lowered your head and caught his lips against yours, burying your fingers in his curls as you squeezed his hips with your thighs. He moaned against your mouth, running his rough hands up your back as he flexed his hips upwards under your weight.

When you were sufficiently sure his anxiety had vanished, you broke the kiss and grabbed your sports bra, lifting it above her head. Danny stared at your breasts with his mouth slightly open, and you couldn't help but give a smile as you lifted his hands to your chest. He squeezed them experimentally at first, as if afraid he would hurt you, but at your breathy moan when his thumb passed over one nipple, he caught on quick to which parts were more sensitive than others.

You returned your lips to his, moaning into his mouth whenever he would rub at your nipples, and it wasn't long until you had to break the kiss because you were panting. You looked down at his face and noted the focused expression, the same one he wore when he was training. It made you shiver and did nothing to help you catch your breath.

"Do you want me to keep going?" you asked, repeating his earlier question.

Danny nodded and said, "Yes," slightly out of breath.

"Good to know I _can_ make you break a sweat," you joked with a sly grin, seeing some of the nervousness come back into his expression. He smiled in response. Taking a deep breath yourself, you unseated yourself from his stomach. You grabbed the waistband of his sweats, flicking your gaze to his face to make sure he wanted you to continue, and then you pulled them off to expose his white briefs. Instead of pulling them off, which is what he probably expected, you sat back on his hips. The searing heat between the two thin pieces of fabric separating you was enough to make you shiver.

You lowered your torso across his chest, gently nibbling at his bottom lip as he reasserted his calloused hands back on your hips. "When you're ready," you instructed in a low tone, "take them off."

The words had scarcely left your lips before Danny let you go, reached beneath your legs, and raised his hips so he could slip down his underwear. Feeling a flush of anticipation down your abdomen, you pulled one leg off of him so you could also yank off your underwear, and when you straddled his hips again, Danny's hot member pressed lengthwise along your lower lips.

Danny gasped at the sensation, and you murmured a breathy, _"holy shit"_ into his neck. He wasn't just rock hard, he was thick too, and it took all of your willpower not to jump his bones right then.

You looked down into his flushed face and asked, "Are you… ready?"

Danny nodded, about as out of breath as you were, and added, "Very."

Catching his mouth hotly against yours, you preoccupied his lips while you reached between the two of you. You caught his thick shaft in your hand and felt him moan into you. Lining him up with your entrance, you began to push back against him, breaking the kiss and leaning your forehead against his as you tried to breathe.

It was slow going, agonizing in the best way, and it felt like you didn't take in any air until your hips met his and he was embedded up to the hilt inside you. Danny was holding onto your hips as if for dear life, and he too was panting for breath.

"Are… are you… doing all right?"

Danny gave a breathless laugh and said, "Shouldn't… I be asking you that?"

"Mmm… trust me…" you said with a small grin. "I'm… feeling fine. Great, really."

"Good," Danny responded with his own grin. "Glad… to hear it."

When your lips next touched Danny's, he opened his mouth to yours, his fingers slightly digging into your hips. Encouraged by his reaction, you started off at a slow, languid pace, testing how easy it was to move along his shaft. It was difficult at first considering his girth, but each movement became smoother. Soon you were setting a regular rhythm that left you both gasping and panting, clinging and grasping at each other like you couldn't get enough.

But you had skipped breakfast, and hadn't gotten enough sleep, so your pace began to slow as you wore out. You were about to apologize to Danny, when he suddenly grabbed your hips and held them still as he began thrusting up into you. You let out a muffled cry of surprise, holding onto his shoulders tightly as he continued pounding into you, digging his nails into your skin as he began hitting your sensitive spot with each completed movement.

 _"D… Danny… Danny, I'm going to—"_

Before you could even finish the sentence, you eclipsed the peak of your pleasure and cried out as your walls tightened and throbbed around him. For a moment in time, you ceased to exist, ecstasy filling your mind and every inch of your body. And then you came crashing down from your high, shuddering and shivering as each continued pulse of your walls sent jolts of pleasure through you.

Under the onslaught of your writhing and cries, Danny couldn't hold on any longer and released his orgasm into you, gasping and moaning as he buried his face into your neck. You could feel him throbbing deep in your gut, and you shivered in response, holding onto him as you curled your fingers into his hair.

It took a full minute for you to find the wherewithal to dismount from his hips, slightly wincing at your oversensitivity. You laid on your side against Danny, wrapping an arm around his chest as you took a deep breath. He turned his head and kissed your temple.

And then, because he was Danny and he couldn't help himself, he laughed and said, "Wow."

"Mmhmm," you agreed pleasantly, the heavy haze of post-orgasm already settling on your mind and body. "That was… pretty much the best thing ever."

Danny laughed into your hair, much of which had come undone from your hair tie.

"We're going to do it again, right?"

 _Jesus, this boy is going to kill me. But at least I'll die happy._

"Breakfast first," you said with a smile, grinning wider as he distractedly ran his fingertips over the curve of your hip. "Then we go for round two."

"Excellent," he responded with way too much enthusiasm for six in the morning, or however early it was.

You gathered your clothing and hastily put them back on, feeling oddly self-conscious, especially with your body practically engulfed in the morning sunlight streaming in through the window. You caught Danny staring at you though, with an expression on his face that was probably quite similar to the one you had earlier. But you only laughed and tossed a sofa pillow at him.

Danny led the way into the kitchen, but you stopped just before passing the island counter. Glancing in his direction to make sure he wasn't looking at you, you slipped away for a moment but reappeared before he even noted your absence.

Breakfast was a comfortable affair with the two of you sitting on bar stools at the island counter, legs touching because you couldn't seem to last more than two seconds without needing physical contact. Your short conversation was mainly about Ward, and how you thought he would react when he found out the two of you were a couple.

"He'd tell me I'm the 'biggest asshole in the universe' for not 'making a move' sooner."

"Judging by your phrasing, I'm guessing you've already had this conversation?"

"…maybe."

You giggled at the sheepish look on Danny's face, almost spilling oatmeal down your front in the process. Breakfast foods in Danny's kitchen really weren't letting you off easy, that's for sure.

When you were through eating, Danny set his bowl down, took your hand, and began to lead you toward the bedroom.

"Wait."

Danny paused, turning to look at you with a question in your eyes. You held something out to him.

"I win."

Once Danny realized what you were holding, his partially-eaten, quickly-browning apple, he started laughing while shaking his head.

"Hey, Rand! I won fair and square!" you exclaimed with mock indignity.

Danny's response was to place one arm around your back, the other under your knees, and picked you up bridal-style. You squeaked in surprise, but when Danny looked down at you with a mischievous gleam in his eye, you felt a warm flush travel over your skin.

"You did. I think we should celebrate," he answered with a grin that was entirely too happy for having lost that morning's test, and he carried you the rest of the way into the bedroom.

Afterwards, as you lay curled in Danny's arms, you wondered how you had gotten so lucky. You'd shown up like a stray on his doorstep, at a time when you didn't think your heart would heal enough to return anyone's love, and yet here you were.

Warm, safe, and finally home.


End file.
